


Winter of our Youth

by heroic_pants



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Divergence, F/F, M/M, Platonic Friends, References to Drugs, bonding between opposites with distant parents, but it starts off with just josie and archie, cw for mentions of past csa i guess, i assume archie's mother is distant she moved to a different city when he was at least 15 or younger, is that enough tags, most of these guys will show up at some point, who's a rockstar? whos a rockstar? josie and arch are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-04 06:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 112,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10269932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroic_pants/pseuds/heroic_pants
Summary: Josie McCoy is exactly where she wanted to be when she was sixteen. She just never thought it would look like this. Archie Andrews wonders sometimes how he got here, and how his closest friend is someone who could barely stand him when he was sixteen. Both of them thought this would solve their problems.Living in L.A for ten years changes you, especially when you're famous. You go on with the same bad habits until an unexpected draw pulls you back to where it all began.How many wrong turns do you take before you can't get back to the old road? Is the loneliness of music stardom a fair exchange for the glory? And can you ever really go home again?





	1. High and Rising

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me - all will be revealed in time, but it might take a few chapters. (And goes without saying, it's a departure from canon. There will probably only be background beronica, but I'll see how it goes)

 

 

_I’m pedalling backwards, even if I’m pedalling alone, can’t help it, I relive it, I relive it all_

**Bastille – Winter of Our Youth**

 

 

_They were flying in a storm. Was it a storm? Really, it can’t have been – way too amateur writer who has just discovered narrative symbolism. She was cold though, the cabin was a little over-air conditioned._

_She looked over at him. He was staring out of the window, and she couldn’t see his expression._

_Had he ever been on a plane? Had he ever even left that small, shitty town before?_

_She had often flown around the country to visit her dad on tour – less so when she left ‘cute nine year old you could bring out on stage’ for ‘mature teenager who drew focus too much’, but thinking about it, she barely knew him._

_She could tell by how he hunched in the seat – like he was trying to make his bulky footballer frame smaller, as if that wouldn’t fail pathetically – that he wasn’t happy._

_He was like a leaky tap, exposed, his emotions rolled off him in waves. It had always made her irritable around him – he made himself so vulnerable, so open to being exploited, and no one ever called him on it._

_Her mother and father, if they had ever agreed, had agreed on that lesson. You cannot afford to show weakness, they would say, because they’re looking for a reason to tear black girls down._

_They had prepared her for the world and yet he just skated by on his earnest puppy-dog eyes and aw-shucks boy-next-door charm, and people rushed to tell him not to give up or how talented he was or whatever crisis he was having. While they had to—_

_She looked away from him. He made her think of them, and thinking of them was painful. She hated him a little more for insinuating himself into those memories. They had been all hers, until he turned up._

_She thought about them again for a moment, and then forced herself to stop._

_She had always been preparing for the real world. No one was going to help her get where she was going to go, but her._

_Or at least not them._

_***_

**_Los Angeles_ **

****

Josie is startled awake by the buzzing of her phone. She is sweating, and the blankets feel like they're strangling her. She fights them off wildly for a moment and lies back.

 

Her dream was already dissipating, leaving just an unsettled feeling. From the impressions in her mind, it was memory. The first time she flew to LA.

 

She shakes her head, triggering a cold-sweat shiver, and grabs for her phone on the nightstand.

 

It's still somewhat dark in her room, and the sudden brightness of her phone’s lock screen makes squint her only half-awake eyes. 

 

There are a bunch of new notifications that popped up as her phone turned to the home screen.

 

 _6:03am,_ the screen read, _August 1 st 2029\. _

She frowns at the screen.

 

 _Happy 28 th Birthday to me_, she thinks.

 

***

Her had mom texted to say, "Happy Birthday Darling! I'm gonna be in meetings all day so I'm slammed, but you're probably going to any number of fun things with your friends and won't miss my call!'

But at least that parent cared enough to send her love in a text. She didn't hold high expectations that her dad would even remember, wherever he even was in the world currently.

Like she cared, anyway.

***

She is showering when she hears him knock and let himself in. It could only be him; he is the only one with a spare key.

 

“I’ve brought coffee,” He calls out as she left the bathroom.

 

“I’ll be out in a sec,” She calls back from her bedroom.

 

Once dressed, she moves to the living to find him sitting on the couch watching the television.

 

“Anything good?” She asks, sitting down next to him and picking her coffee up.

 

He mutes it. “Same old.”

 

He looked ragged. While he was never usually clean shaven anymore his stubble was becoming a scrubby orange beard, and the bags under his eyes were becoming suitcases.

 

He smiles at her, and for a moment he looked much younger.

 

“Happy birthday, Jose.”

 

She frowns, and makes a unhappy noise. He laughs, and she is once again struck by how grateful she was that he was there and that she got to see him laugh (a privilege, no one really got to see the genuine article anymore) and she hugs him.

 

He hugs her back, tightly.

She had never been a big hugger when she was younger. Or rather, she hadn’t really been a hugger of boys. They had been more likely to push you over when they were five, and then more likely to request one in a winking, ‘don’t-i-get-a-hug’ way that made her skin crawl. He didn’t hug like that, he wasn’t like that, and so she doesn’t have to worry about any of that with him. It's just comforting.

 

He releases her and reaches for a gift wrapped box on the couch.

 

“Anyway, happy twenty-eighth. I know you’re weird about birthdays, but you like presents, so there.” He hands her the box.

 

She narrows her eyes at him. “I thought we were going to ignore it this year.”

 

He shakes his head and sighs, exaggeratedly. “You’re such a fuckin’ nerd. Open the box, c’mon.”

 

He used to be much more earnest, when she hadn’t known him, never swore, if he had a sense of humour he had never joked around her. Ten years in this city, in their business, would bring out the hard edge on anyone though. This was the ‘him’ that was her friend though; she didn’t know that other boy.

 

“C’mon, I had one of the label’s P.As pick something really meaningful.”

 

She punches him lightly in the arm, but it had made her laugh, and she begins to open the box.

 

She begins pulling some sparkly midnight blue fabric out of the box, what seems to be a dress, and her heart skips.  _It wasn’t possible._

“I swear to God, Andrews…” She mutters. He grins.

 

She pulls it out fully – a dark blue, long-sleeved, short-skirted dress. _It couldn’t be._

 

“This is definitely not what I think it is, Archie.” She says, eyeing him suspiciously.

 

He adopts an innocent face. “If you mean just the dress you wore for our first real gig together, that you loved and then your mother gave away to a charity shop and you were devastated? Yes, possibly.”

 

She looks at him, mystified, and checks the label. It might just be the same kind of dress, and he’d sourced one from the designer. Which was a very sweet idea.

 

She reads the label and gasps.

 

It’s still there, in silver marker: _A &J 2020 vision. _She hears her voice distantly, _it’s about building our brand, Andrews._

 

He laughs.

 

She looks at him, completely confused. “Where did you even find it?”

 

“I had a crack team of spies – “ She punches him in the shoulder again. “Ow! Ok, I was in a consignment store in Silverlake and I found it. It was on display, I might have had to fight my way out of a riot of girls who wanted it.”

 

“You’re such a dork. Why were you even there?” She asks.

 

He is attempting to supress a roguish smile, and failing. “I may have been escorting a lady at the time.”

 

She snorts a laugh. “I’m sure that she loved you combining her date and my present buying.”

 

He laughs. “Hey, the dress was such a rare find. Like I wasn’t gonna buy it! She did get shitty with me, asked if we were sleeping together.”

 

She laughs derisively, louder than the last. “She sounds like a keeper.”

 

“Yeah, she was great. I’m pretty sure she stole my toothbrush.”

 

“You know how to pick ‘em. Maybe try sleeping with less batshit fans? Or just _less_ maybe?” 

 

“Fuck off, at least I’m getting some?” It’s pointed, but she knows he doesn’t mean it nastily. It was fair game after the ‘fans’ comment. She only teases him about it, really, everyone has a vice.

 

She scowls at him. “Ok, I give.” She looks at the dress and can’t help smiling again. “Thank you. You damn idiot, I love it.” She leans over to hug him again.  “I can’t believe I have to find a better thing for you next year. You’re the worst.”

 

He chuckles, and stretches, yawning, showing the tattoos on his ribcage and upper body. She realises he’s wearing that singlet with the arm holes that extend to the hem, and sighs.

 

“Arch, you know only douche-gym-bros wear singlets like that. Please do me a favour and burn it?”

 

He shakes his head. “We’re not dating _Josephine_ , you can’t veto my clothing choices. Besides I like it, it’s cool in this goddamn heat.”

 

“That and it shows off your abs, _Archibald._ Don’t front, I know you.” He grins at this, not denying it.

 

He only calls her by her full name to annoy her, but luckily both of their parents had named them for people born decades before them, and so both feel sufficiently elderly to tease each other with.

 

A long time before, he had seemed genuinely surprised Josie was a shortening of Josephine. Then her father had condescended that he probably didn’t even know who Josephine Baker was, but what white sixteen year old boy is that aware of many female jazz age entertainers of the twenties? She’d thought his statement was pure stupidity, although she’s inclined to judge it more kindly now than her sixteen year old self did. He was uncomfortable, just trying to find something to say to her, not used to being disliked.

 

He is checking his phone, and looks up. “Ok, so I know you said you weren’t keen on doing much for your birthday, buuut-“ He said tentatively, a sheepish grin tugging the corners of his mouth.

 

“Don’t love where this is going, Andrews.” She narrows her eyes in suspicion at him.

 

“C’mon, Jose! I just got texted the location of a secret club – we can go have a good time, but it won’t be so public and there won’t be people trying to get in our faces, and we can drink, I can wingman you…” He says, with a hamfisted wink.

 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not looking for you to hook me up, I’m fine. And you’re a terrible wingman, you’re always getting distracted.”

 

He smirks, but looks at her mock seriously. “I’m not joking, it’s fucking embarrassing. You’re a rockstar who sits around watching Netflix in your spare time. We need to find a pretty girl for you, so you can get laid. Or maybe, even date, how crazy would that be?” He teases, poking her in the ribs.

 

She replies back in the same mock-serious tone, “Oh, and tell me how many serious relationships you’ve attempted in the last two years, Arch?”

 

He smirks a little wryly, and nods. “Ok, fair, but just because I’m terrible at them doesn’t mean you have to be. What if you met someone great?”

 

She knows he’s saying that to make her feel better, because she knows he doesn’t really want someone to come in and change the way things have been for so long. Codependency doesn’t work when your dependent doesn’t depend on you anymore.

 

“We’ve had this conversation, we’re not built for dating. Not with all the touring and the recording and the endless whirlwind that is our lives, I thought we agreed.” She says, feeling slightly annoyed. Having to say this again feels like she’s trying to quickly paper over a scab that’s just been torn open.

 

He nods, in real seriousness this time. He looks at her like he wants to say something, and then impulses built up over ten years override it.

 

She knows exactly what he would have said though, but for his own sake she doesn’t say anything about it. He thinks it would be easier for her to date. Easier than him, but to express the real fear there recalls a gaping chasm of wide-eyed earnestness. They are both too sober, too afraid to want to remember that right now.

 

Just to lighten the mood she gives in. “ _Fine_ , we can go out. And if you happen to see anyone you think I would like, you can tell me, and I’ll see what I think.” She jabs him over the curling black text on displayed on his ribs.

 

He grins, mischievous glint in his eye again, façade patched and worn again.

 

He could be a mess with her, is the thing, and she wouldn’t mind. They’ve seen each other at the worst, at the most small and shameful and sad. But the façade of strength and fearlessness is as comfortable as a second skin now and only drops around each other, in the late nights, in the early hours, in the space between show and studio and city and interview.

 

“Fuck yeah! We’re gonna have a good night!” He called out to her empty apartment, laughing.

 

She rolled her eyes, but let out a whoop all the same. 

 

***

The secret club was apparently into 2010s nostalgia, speakers blasting out beats and lyrics to a song she half remembered was on the radio when she was in elementary school.

 

_Lying awake, the colours all fade, from the tears on my face I’ve let you slip away/I can kiss whoever I’m wearing the crown_

Archie had been dancing with her, and then with someone else, but had come back to introduce her (grinning in a way that would have been obnoxious on most other men) to a cute blonde girl he’d been talking to – more California girl than Hitchcock, as a book she’d pretended she hadn’t read once described a character – and now they were dancing together to the song’s skyrocketing freeform of beats.

 

She knew she was beautiful, that had never been her problem. She was driven though, and at the start of her career had only wanted to think of herself – it may have been selfish but she had to, or all the sacrifices she had made would have been for nothing. She found that she was always frustrated trying to please someone for a relationship that would only end because she toured too much, or worked too much, or they were jealous of her closeness with her only bandmate and song-writing partner.

 

She could remember one saying to her once, in all seriousness, “Josie, it’s unnatural for you to hang out with that straight boy as much as you do, what do you even have in common but that town you came from?”

 

Which was firstly, quite presumptuous, and secondly, no one was going to tell her who she could and couldn’t have friendships with. She had ended it that day, and wrote a hit song with Archie about it for their new album. It reached #3 on the charts for five straight weeks.  

 

Relationships became anathema to them – a strain on their creative pursuits, a luxury two attractive rising stars didn’t need. Why bother with the pain and stress of it all, when you could have all the fun parts over with a different person every few weeks or months?

 

 When they were twenty, twenty-one, they thought they had changed. They thought they were so different to the fifteen, sixteen year olds they’d been. Thought they had it all figured out, finally.

 

It was hard not to look back on them and hate them a little, for having it so easy, for not trying at all.

 

_Stuck in a phase, misguided by mistakes_

 

The girl dancing with her was beautiful, certainly, not generally her type - but what did it matter?

_I'm hiiiiigh and riiisiiiing, aliiive now_

 

She just wanted to not have to think so, so much, about everything. Tour dates, interview answers, fans, the next album, the next year. It was exhausting.

 

In this moment, her mind hazy, lights flashing epileptic patterns, all of the worries felt millions of miles away.

 

She let go and pulled the girl into a kiss.

_Happy 28th Birthday, Josie_


	2. The Draw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to put this up a day ago but study got in the way, anyway here it is :)

_You’ve been acting awful tough lately, smoking a lot of cigarettes lately, but inside, you’re just a little baby –_ **Marina and the Diamonds, I Am Not A Robot**

 

Archie wakes early, momentarily disoriented as always by the darkness of a room he didn’t recognise.

 

He is good at this part. Practised.  


He gets out of the bed and hunts for his underwear, his jeans, his shirt, and then his shoes, pulling them on almost soundlessly.

 

He checks for his phone, realising it is on the nightstand next to the bed. At least he’d had the presence of mind to put it there. On more than one occasion, it had turned up on the other side of the room, and at least once in a bathtub.

 

He grabs it, and pauses for a moment to look at the sleeping figure’s dark hair falling messily onto the pillows.

 

Then he leaves the apartment.

  
***

He’d was getting an Uber home, but if the driver had recognised him he hadn’t said anything, which he was grateful.

 

Their audience weren’t generally over sixty, anyway.

 

Meeting fans unexpectedly while feeling like shit was awful – you wanted to seem nice, you didn’t want to disappoint, but if it ever happened when you were hung-over you just wanted them to not come up to you. _Let me go home and sleep. I can’t be who you want me to be right now, but if I can manage to get my head to stop feeling like a tiny man is jackhammering in there, i’ll be so much nicer_.

 

He's thinking about Todd—Toby -- Tom, he wanted to say? – how he’d been nice last night. Tom had accidentally spilled his beer on him, but it had really been his fault. He’d been getting pretty bombed with Josie, and was a little less than co-ordinated, and Tom had apologised immediately and offered to buy him another drink.

 

He had almost completely tattooed arms and the ink ran over his chest and back. A fuzzy memory of running his fingers over the art came to him,

 

“ _This is insane...how long have these taken you?” He asked, softly._

_Tom smiled, and brushed inky strands out of his eyes, “Fifteen years maybe? I started when I was fourteen.”_

_“Fourteen? I wouldn’t have even pictured ever getting a single one at that age. My mom would have lost it.” He chuckled, without humour– involuntary, a reflex._

_Tom brushed his bare arm, right over a tattoo he got for his 22nd birthday. “What does she think of all of them now?”_

_He looked away for a moment. “I don’t know. We’re not close. It’s not a big deal.” That last part was so easy to say now. He almost believed it._

_He had his fair share of experiences where someone had clearly wanted to pry into his life – what was his childhood like, what was it really like being famous, was he sleeping with Josie – but Tom just smiled sympathetically. “Ay, I get you. My father and I don’t really talk either. I mean he was strict, Puerto Rican dads care a lot, but they’re strict as hell. Or at least that was the same with my friends, and we were skinny little shits trying to get in trouble, trying to sneak into that better part of the city.”_

_Archie was glad he wasn’t being asked about his mother anymore. It was deliberate, kind. “That when you started getting your tats?” He asked._

_“Yeah...my dad hated ‘em. Thought I was going to join a gang, end up in jail. Fair enough, too.” He paused for a moment, looking at him. “But the thing about it,” he said slowly, “I was a skinny kid, I was full of feelings and thoughts that would’ve made my friends think I was weak, but when we got our first tattoos...it felt like armour to me. With each one I felt like I was leaving that scared, emotional kid behind, you know?_ ”

 

Archie was dragged out of the memory by arriving at his apartment building. He nods to the doorman. As the elevator doors closed, he wonders if he’ll be able to get a nap in, he’d barely slept and his head feels like there are fire-ants crawling around it.

 

Tom had been nice. A few years ago he might have tried: to stay the morning, to call, to see if there was something there. It was a dick move, leaving like that, but that was what it was. He wasn’t looking for someone to date – it always seemed to end badly, no matter how nicely it started. And it always seemed to be his fault, even though he never began with the intention of treating anyone badly.

 

Whether he was dating women or men, it always devolved into either accusations of emotional distance, jealousy, or with men particularly, that he wasn’t as open about it as they wanted. He was more comfortable with it, now, but at the time it wasn’t exactly simple. Fame meant people got all the raw data about you and made up their minds without actually knowing you. He was careful about what he made available for public consumption.

 

He shakes himself as he pours himself a glass of cold water. He’d been thinking about relationships a lot recently, for some horrible reason. Relationships he’d had, whether Josie could have one.

 

He wanted her to have one. Well, that wasn’t true entirely but he did want her to be happy. And if she did have one, he’d be happy for her – but it’d been them for so long, holding each other up. The time they hadn’t talked for six months he’d been the most isolated and lonely he’d been since they first came here. He had no siblings, no real friendships here, and his attempt to actually have a relationship and prove the past wrong had inevitably ended badly, and then he had just been going through the motions for months.

 

He wrote some great songs in that period though.

 

The thing was that she didn’t seem to want one, either. Despite what certain Tumblrs you could find if you were morbidly curious said, they weren’t “waiting for each other” – a ridiculous idea if you actually knew them, especially since Josie had zero interest in men. But like him, he suspected she found the idea exhausting, and threw herself into the music instead.

  
***

  
He was spending the rest of the day sitting in the bay window seat, writing songs and chain-smoking. The smoking was a bad habit. Often he wished he’d never started, but they were in his blood now. He’d tried quitting before but it just made him irritable and antsy. Josie only smoked socially, or when things were really crushing her – if he saw her smoking he really knew things were stressful. When they had made the highly-risky decision to leave their first label she’d sat on the balcony of their old shared apartment and smoked, looking out at the city for hours.

 

Their last album had been released just year, so they weren’t feeling like they needed to release new material yet but he had been thinking of some things lately that he’d never thought of writing about. One prominent music review website had called their latest album, “their most mature effort yet”, which was a strange feeling for him. He certainly didn’t used to be someone who reviewers would have called a mature songwriter, but it also reminded him that he was writing more personal things these days, and it scared him a bit to think people were seeing them. The first songs he had written made him cringe to think of them, and horrifyingly there were probably copies at his dad’s house, but everyone had to start somewhere.

  
_He couldn’t sleep. He’d never been in a hotel really before, let alone one this fancy, without his parents. They’d taken him on camping trips, but they stayed in tents or camping grounds mostly. His dad loved to camp, his mum had liked hiking and they’d never been wealthy enough to take overseas vacations._

 

_They’d been in Los Angeles a week, and it felt enough like a foreign country already. Josie had been here before, but he hadn’t. It was all he could do not to gape at all the crowds and the incredible amount of tanned, fit, attractive people. Josie said at least half of them were wannabe actors, looking like she already knew they wouldn’t make it and was judging them for it._

  
_They had talked to their manager, Joseph, that morning. He was the kind of guy who thought he was really funny but didn’t know how to relate to anyone under thirty, and so made them slightly uncomfortable._

_  
Josie was really good at seeming like she was completely interested in what he was saying, and laughing at his jokes like she genuinely loved them. Or maybe she really did feel that way, but he had known her for the past two years and she wasn’t like that with anyone else._

  
_He had asked Joseph about writing and had been told that for the first few songs, they were just going to go with what worked – them singing together, which was ‘dynamite, just dynamite’ which was something his dad might have said but in a less exuberant tone – and let some of the label’s more experienced writers write the songs, just until they were more comfortable._

  
_That was disappointing. He thought the songs were part of why Joseph had been interested, but he shoved down the thought that now he was falling behind. It was fine, they sung well together._

  
_He found himself outside Josie’s door, hesitated, and knocked._

_She opened the door, looking a little more irritable when she saw him. “Something you need?”_

  
_He almost swallowed his words and walked away but pressed on. It had been an overwhelming few days, he could understand her irritability. “How did you feel about the meeting with Joseph?”_

  
_She raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was great. I’m excited to get started.”_

  
_He nodded. “Totally, totally. But like, don’t you wanna write too? You like writing.”_

  
_Her expression didn’t change. “I like singing more. I mean, I think we should figure out how we work together before we start writing together too.”_

  
_He was taken aback slightly. “We’ve written together before.”_

  
_She frowned. “Not really. Not at this level.”_

  
_They stood in awkward silence for a moment._

_  
“Do you want to practice together a bit now? I’m just nervous.”_

_  
Her expression deepened past irritation. “It’s almost nine, Andrews! I was going to go to bed in like forty-five minutes anyway, so I can wake up refreshed for tomorrow. I know you’re used to it from everyone at home, but I can’t be your cheerleader here. I’ve gotta look out for myself, do you get that?”_

_  
She stood there looking angry, and her words hit him like punch in the gut. Which in his experience, he would have rather taken again. She was so right, though. That hurt the most. He searched for something to say so he could leave – somehow he didn’t think it would endear him to her if he cried right here – and landed on a babbling, “Yeah, of course, sorry, I’m an idiot, I’ll go.”_

_  
She looked at him with a strange expression, less angry but not exactly kind either._

_  
He turned to go, but she sighed behind him. “Andrews, c’mon. Let’s do some practice for half an hour. I could use it.”_

_He turned back. She looked like she couldn’t believe she was doing this, but in a softer way. Like she didn’t mean to be that harsh. He tried not to look too happy._

  
His phone rings, and he shakes half remembered rooms and hallways from his mind.

  
"Mr Andrews?" It's one of the label assistants. They're the only ones who addressed him like that and it was weird. That man was his father, it was what the teachers called him on parent-teacher nights.

  
He couldn't see himself having children. It would be cruel to bring a child into the world knowing it would only become part of a broken home. He probably also wouldn't be the parent that stayed. He couldn't do that to a child.

  
"I was just contacted by someone looking to get in touch with you and Miss McCoy, they sent through an invitation," He half-hears the assistant saying. It was fairly regular that they were sent invitations through their representatives at the label. He didn't know if he was feeling up to anything like a gala though. Although the few times they'd attended the Met Ball it had been surprisingly enjoyable - he could be convinced to go to that again. "...were contacted by the head of this RAC, a Cheryl Blossom, a very intense woman..."

  
He abruptly tunes into the conversation. "Sorry, did you say Cheryl? What's the invite for?"

  
The assistant pauses a moment. "Yes, that's the name I wrote down. The invite is from a Riverdale Alumnus Committee, have you heard of it?"

  
"No," He says slowly. "What's the invite for?"

  
"Apparently, there is a ten year reunion on for the class of '19, in two months, in Riverdale."

  
"Uh," He says.

  
"If you don't mind me asking, wasn't that the year you graduated high school?"

  
"Mm," He replies.

  
She is quiet a moment. "Two months is a very short window of notice, I can tell them that you guys are too busy to make it. It is across the country..." He felt horribly awkward for the poor assistant, who could clearly tell he didn't know what to say, and was trying to give him an out.

  
He finds his tongue. "Uh - no! I mean, no. Can you send it to me? I - We'll think about it."

  
"Sure, Mr Andrews." She says professionally, like he is speaking like a normal person and not a babbling idiot.

  
"You can just call me Archie - Mr Andrews sounds old, y'know?"

  
"Ok, 'll send the invite through now...Archie." She sounds strange saying that, like if you ever see a teacher after high school and they ask you to call them by their first name.

  
How had it never once occurred to him that something like this was coming.

  
Josie was going to have a fucking heart attack when he told her.

 

***

 

He didn't really know how to bring it up with her. He couldn't know what her reaction would be exactly but he could tell it wouldn't probably be good.

  
They're hanging out in his apartment, not really talking, just writing and working out some chords, when she stops abruptly.

  
"Ok, what's with you?" She asks, raising her eyebrow.

  
He deflects. "What? I'm fine."

  
She gives him a sceptical look. "Don't what me, you've been weird for days. What's up?"

  
He rests his guitar against his stomach and he sighs. Better now than never.

  
"The label sent through a invitation for us."

  
She's looking puzzled. "It could be fun. What's the problem?"

  
He gives her a wary look. "Wait until you hear what it is...It's our ten year school reunion."

  
Josie freezes.

  
"Yeah."

  
"Fuck."

  
"Fuck."

  
They sit in silence for a moment.

  
"How did they contact you? Who was it that contacted you?"

  
"The label assistant told me Cheryl got in contact with them. Apparently she's like, head of the Alumni Council now or something."

  
He didn't imagine the slight, but sharp intake of breath when he mentioned her.

  
"Sounds like her." She says distantly.

  
"I think she scared the assistant. "Very intense" were her words, I think." He adds, with the slightest hint of humour.

  
There is the smallest strand of a laugh in her voice when she replies, "That does sound like her."

  
They sit in silence again, figuring out what to say, how to come at this unexpected problem.

  
"Fuck this," She bursts out abruptly. "I need a smoke. No - I need a joint. You're going to have to share yours though."

  
He accepted this without protest. It was all very well to argue over who paid for more lunches, or bottles of milk when you were eighteen and you still didn't understand what it was like to have real money, but they had shared enough costs at this point it wasn't an issue.

  
***

  
There is a room in his apartment with dark walls, a rounded ceiling, and a round stained glass skylight. He could not tell you what the creators of the addition were thinking when they built it, but it is one of his favourite parts of the apartment.

  
They lie on the round, faded Turkish rug, and pass the cigarette between each other, staring up into the skylight, listening to the crackle of the Mamas and Papas singing about the leaves being brown and the sky being grey.

  
He didn't know them at sixteen. He didn't know a lot at sixteen.

  
He exhales.

  
"We don't have to go."

  
She considers without looking at him. "I mean, two months is a short notice period. We're busy people."

  
He nods, staring at the way the skylight distorts the light. "Right? We're famous musicians. There are big music festivals that know to book us earlier than that."

  
She nods slowly. "It's almost rude. Why not just call two days beforehand? I bet Beyonce doesn't have to deal with this shit."

  
"True, but as I remember, she does leave an impression...I don't think her school would be able to contact her a year out, even."

  
Josie giggles.

  
He turns his head. "What?" He asks croakily.

  
"I'm thinking about how I was so nervous I almost threw up on her...that would have made an impression." She giggles, a half-anxious noise.

  
He giggles at the memory too.

  
"She's too famous to go to her high school reunion anyway. I wish we were that famous."

  
"To be fair, how can anyone measure up to her? We're seasoned professionals."

  
She laughs at this, and he laughs too.

  
"So we're not going, is that our decision?"

  
She nods. "Definitely not. We're too busy and famous."

  
"Right on."

  
They lie in silence for a while.

  
"I wonder if Veronica is going? I wonder if they called her earlier than us..." Josie says softly.

  
He frowns. They don't usually talk about her. "If she's not busy with a press junket, or filming somewhere exotic, maybe."

  
"She'd love to do a victory lap though, show everyone how well she did." Josie replies, frowning slightly.

  
"But we don't want to do one."

  
"Certainly not."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from bastille's "the draw"   
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0wHR_84hgc)
> 
> also points if you recognised my lame josie and the pussycats (2001) reference. and if you haven't seen it i suggest you track it down it's a masterpiece.


	3. Running

 

_Don't know where I'm running, But I know how to run, Cause running's the thing I've always done, Oh, I don't know what I'm doing, But I know what I've done, I'm a hungry heart I'm a loaded gun_

**Passenger – 27**

 

It had been a week of back and forth with the decision. One day they certainly weren't going, the next day it would be nice to see their hometown again, the next it was a terrible place and that's why they hadn't been back in ten years.

 

It filled Josie's mind, wherever she was.

 

She was running on the treadmill, which usually cleared her head but all she could think of was the idea of going back.

 

If they met with their families, they usually flew them out to L.A, or occasionally to whatever city they were touring. It was easier for them - they were both only children, and they both only had one emotionally supportive parent anyway.

 

Her mom actually loved coming out to the West Coast, saying it was so much sunnier, warmer than home. She supposed that was true, but her childhood memories of home were always of playing in sun-dappled parks, feeling warm and happy. It was probably memory bias, though. High school hadn't been like that anyway.

 

It probably wasn't helping that she had a workout playlist playing on her phone, songs she was listening to when she was in school. But they were good - sometimes you needed a little nostalgia.

 

Did she want that much more of it though?

 

She concentrated her efforts again and turned the speed up, Sia playing loudly through her earbuds.

 

_And I know that I can survive, I walked through fire to save my life And I want it, I want my life so bad, And I'm doing everything I can._

***

 

Archie was quieter too. They would pump themselves up for a secret show, or something, but would return from it quiet and pensive.

 

They're at hers, watching some movie, and she looks over at him.

 

"Do you want to go?"

 

He looks her, conflicted. "I don't know. No, we decided against it."

 

"But what do you _want_ to do?" She fixes him with a stern look.

 

He sighs, and doesn't speak for a moment. "I don't know. I think - we're already thinking of this too much. If we don't go, it'll just be another thing in the back of our minds, y'know?"

 

She considers it. "What if it's exactly like we're fearing?"

 

He shrugs. "Then we can go home to our real lives. We don't have to stay there."

 

She nods slowly.

 

"I'm not going if you don't want to though." He says seriously.

 

She smiles at him. "I think I probably should. Ugh, fine. Let's do this."

 

***

 

A few days before they’re meant to leave she awakes in the early morning because her phone is ringing. She looks at the screen, and picks it up, sitting up immediately.

 

All she can hear is heavy breathing on the end. She can imagine him crouched next to his bed, or beside the bath in his apartment, struggling to breathe, heart racing.

 

She speaks calmly into the phone. “Ok , Arch. Breathe with me. Just one little breath in.”

 

She inhales a measured breath. Then she exhales out. She does it a few times until she’s sure he’s doing it with her. His breath becomes more measured.

 

She doesn’t say anything, just waits.

 

“I can’t – I’m not prepared for this. I can’t – I’m not,” He says, anxiety punctuating each word.

 

“Breathe.” She tells him. His breathing slows again as she listens.

 

“What are we doing, Jose? This is a bad idea.” He says in a small voice.

 

“I don’t know. I think we have to do it now, though. You can do this. We can do this.”

 

He doesn’t say anything.

 

“Who’s a rockstar?”  

 

He chuckles weakly. They used to say it when one of them was upset, in the beginning.

 

“We can face it all together.” She says softly.

 

“Ok. Together.” He says resolutely, still sounding a bit shaky. “Fuck, I’m-“

 

She cuts him off. “I know you’re not about to apologise right now. Get some sleep OK?”

 

“If you do.” He replies. “You know I love you right?”

 

“I know. I love you too.”

 

He hangs up and she lies back.

 

She hadn’t gotten a four AM panic attack call in a while. The first time she’d witnessed one she’d had no idea how to help, and it was terrifying. Researching them gave her the breathing tip, and she’d worked through enough of them now that she felt like an old hand – but she still felt like she could only help so much.

 

Yet she was the one who told him to call her if it was happening. It would seem like he was so needy, except that he’d been there for her in the same way, when she’d been sad or sick – holding her hair back when she drank too much at a label Christmas party and was sick, silently comforting her if he found her crying when she’d thought he was asleep.

 

 She sighs and tries to fall back to sleep, trying not to think about what the week ahead will bring.

 

***

 

Josie isn’t feeling as confident as she had tried to convince Archie she was about this though. He had his own, real, reasons to not want to go home – but he had burned less bridges when he’d left town than she had. And mostly, his ghosts weren’t still living in town.

 

She is waiting on him to finish packing – he still leaves it to the last minute, even after years of her reminding him to start early like she always does. Although it might also have been an anxiety thing.

 

“Have you seen my motorcycle jacket?” He asks, rushing around the bedroom, throwing things into the suitcase.

 

“You’re wearing it.”

 

He looks down, and then looks up. “Oh. Right.” He says distractedly.

 

“This is isn’t as scary as the first music festival we played. Remember, you were willing to give up right there and then.” She says to him, trying to distract him from stressing.

 

He gives her a sceptical look. “That was just thousands of people we didn’t know, who were just going to judge us on our performance. This is worse.”

 

She lets out a garbled noise of frustration and braces his arms so she can stop him moving about for a moment. “It’s just different. If I can do this you can do this. Now suck it the hell up.”

 

He laughs in surprise. “Well we won’t be able to go if you don’t help me with this.”

 

She shakes her head. “You’re a grown-ass man, Andrews, c’mon.” She says, but picks up some clothing from the bed with a smile.

 

***

 

Airports are certainly not unfamiliar places to them, but this is the first time they’re flying back to the one they left from a decade ago, and it feels strange. It shouldn’t, it’s just another airport, they been to so many they blur together but it does feel strange.

 

They’re used to playing cities, mostly, so flights are usually direct and close to their destination as possible. Not so in a small town – they’re flying to the nearest regional airport in Syracuse then picking up a rental car and driving down till they get to town.

 

They could have hired a driver, even arrive in town in a limousine, but it would be too conspicuous. They don’t want to announce their arrival to everyone before they’re ready.

 

Josie notices Archie absent-mindedly scratching at the skin around his nail beds. She nudges him, subtly. “Don’t.”

 

***

_She is seven years old and she just wants to dance. Her daddy has a big wall full of records (that’s what he called them) and he plays music off them. Each one is like a secret treasure to be discovered._

_The music is so loud it feels like it’s coming from her and not the tall black boxes_ _leaning on the wall._

_Daddy dances with her, and it’s the best feeling in the world. She knows that he sometimes has to go away to make music for other people – that’s what Momma says, but he always comes back. She loves it when he comes back._

_“Look at you go, Josephine! We named you right, baby!” He says, holding her arm so he can spin her._

_She giggles._

_He sings along to the music, holding her hands and moving her. He has such a nice voice._

_“Don’t you ever be sad, lean on me when times are bad.” He sings to her._

_The song makes her feel warm to her core._

_“Listen to that horn section!” He says, loudly. “Josie, I want you to listen here, Jazz is the purest expression of music. But after that you gotta get that Soul music. This is what has worth, has meaning.”_

_She nods intently, but only sort of understands._

_“You gotta be legit baby, that’s the only way.” He smiles at her, warmly._

_Momma comes in, laughing. “Don’t scare her, Myles.”_

_He laughs, and takes Momma’s hand and dances with her. She laughs and laughs. She’s so happy._

_Josie dances around, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world._

She wakes from her dream shaking her head.

 

The prospect of going home is stirring up things she thought she’d forgotten, and she doesn’t like it.

 

Dancing with her dad is one of her oldest memories of him, one of the only of her parents when they were together, happy.

 

She has no illusions about them. They were attracted to each other because they were opposites – a beautiful small town poli-sci major who met a charismatic young musician from the big city when they both took shelter in the same cafe during a downpour – but they fought like crazy, they broke up, and got back together for nearly nine years, until they made it final when she was eight. 

 

She looked over at Archie, napping in the seat next to her, and turned to rest her head on the shaded window, hoping he was having more pleasant dreams.

 

***

_“Come on, Arch!” A high pitched, child’s voice called out to him._

_He ran after her, seeing her blond ponytail bob up and down._

_“Wait for me, Betty!” He called out. She was faster than him, though Dad said this would change someday. She was taller, too._

_They were running off to their place they’d found in a spot in the woods. Not in the dark part they weren’t allowed to visit, but a part that was always sunny and wasn’t as full of trees._

_It was right at the back of their houses so they were allowed to play there. But it was also their secret – Betty’s mom thought she was just over at his house playing. She scared him a little, because she was always giving him a look like he’d been bad. It was like she could see into his thoughts. He sometimes thought she was a witch, although he didn’t tell Betty this._

_They’d found it while “going on an adventure” – Betty’s favourite thing to say, from a book her dad read to her that she loved. Going on an adventure for him usually involved running after Betty, somewhere. She had wanted to “explore” – look around the sunny trees behind their house, see what they could find. He was very happy to just play in the backyard where they could get home easily, but he didn’t argue with her when she wanted to explore somewhere._

_They raced back, climbing the rungs of the ladder up into the small wooden house._

_“Do you think someone used to live here?” He asked her._

_Betty looked around. “They would have had to be very small.”_

_~~_

_But Betty’s mom had found out or gotten mad about something, and now she wasn’t allowed to leave the house except with a parent. He was glad his parents were not nearly as scary._

_She had frowned at him from her window that faced his, mouthing ‘sorry’, and he had nodded back from his window – but she had Polly, even when she was stuck at home, she’d always had another best friend. He only had her._

_He wandered into the woods behind the house – Dad had said it was ok if he didn’t go far, and he was going far, really._

_It was scarier by himself, and as he climbed the ladder by himself he felt like eyes were watching him. Betty had once told him a story about a werewolf living in the woods that was so scary he hadn’t been able to sleep for a week without having nightmares. It was just a story._

_Just a story._

_There were more things in the treehouse though. Cups and a little sleeping bag. And a headband with round, furry ends like Dad had for when he was mowing, but older looking – connected to a little machine._

_He put them on, and looked at it, figuring out how to turn it on, and pressing the buttons until something happened._

_Music started playing after one – a song he’d never heard. It was slow, kind of creepy. The singer was repeating himself. He nearly jumped out his skin when he started yelling, and he couldn’t understand it but it was so loud._

_He kept listening to it though – it felt like his mom wouldn’t approve of this song at all. Or dad, maybe. It was weird, and creepy but he kept listening._

_During a quieter bit he thought he could hear something outside but he couldn’t think how to turn the music off, and it kept speeding up, and he could feel someone on the ladder but he was rooted to the spot and couldn’t even take off the headband. It was the werewolf, he was going to be eaten and this was going to be the last thing he heard._

_A figure popped up in the doorway, a big black figure, and he yelled even though he couldn’t hear it._

_The figure frowned, and he realised it was just wearing black clothes and a little black beanie. And it wasn’t that big. It was just a boy. Who looked mad and reached for him, and he shrank back, and the boy grabbed the headband off him, and pressed a button on it so Archie couldn’t even hear the song anymore._

_“What are you doing in my treehouse?” The boy said._

_“Your treehouse?” He managed to get out, though he his heart was beating so fast he felt like he might die. “I found it.” He said, not wanting to get Betty in trouble._

_The boy looked angry. “And you’re listening to my CD. You can’t just use other people’s things!”He pointed at the little machine. “I thought I lost this!”_

_Archie shook his head. “I’m-I’m sorry. My friend is stuck at home, and I was exploring and I came here and it was just there and I only wanted to see what it did and then I couldn’t turn off the creepy screamy song and I thought you were a werewolf-“ He let out in a panicked babble._

_The boy smiled, unexpectedly, and then laughed. “I’m not a werewolf. Wish I was. Is that why you screamed at me?”_

_Archie blushed. “It was a creepy song.”_

_“You probably shouldn’t do that, you look like you’re on fire.” The boy said, then added, “So you like Nir-vana?”  He said it like he’d only heard someone else say it before._

_Archie shook his head, not really knowing what he meant. “No...”_

_“Are you in my class at school? I’m in Miss Kenny’s first grade class A.” He asked suddenly._

_The kid nodded slowly. “What’s your name?”_

_“Archie.” He held out his hand. He wasn’t sure why but he’d seen grown-ups do it._

_The kid took it, smiling. “Jughead.”_

_“What kinda name is THAT?”_

Archie awakes with the rattle of the food trolley, thinking about a name he’d been avoiding since they decided to come back.

 

***

They’re driving down and old stretch of road belting out some 80s synth pop to get psyched. The reunion isn’t even for a few days, but it’s better than playing sad music.

 

A-Ha’s frenetic keyboard intro is playing loudly as they pass the old town sign, and give each other a look.

 

It’s impossible to be too worried though when you’re blasting ‘Take On Me’ from your speakers, and they laugh as they pass into the town limits.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> music references, if anyone wants to know are:  
> Elastic Heart - Sia  
> Hold On, I'm Coming - Sam and Dave  
> Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana  
> Take On Me - A-ha
> 
> (i'm thinking of making a playlist. hmm)
> 
> this is the chapter with the JATP movie reference, again if you've seen that movie bless you and if you haven't you need to, but i posted the last one late at night and I was tired.


	4. Circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to post this earlier this week but various studies got on top of me, so here we are at last!

 

_Cause we’re circles, we’re circles you see, we go round and round the sun, in and out like the sea, I’ll circle round you and you’ll circle around me_

**Passenger - Circles**

 

 

“So you’re sure you wanna do this?” Josie asks him. “Why not stay in the hotel with me? They’d give you a room with a double bed, I’m sure.”

 

He shakes his head. “Ok one, it’s a B&B, you know the closest thing this town has to a hotel is that and that seedy pay-by-the-hour motel.”

 

She snorts at this.

 

“And, two...I don’t know. I never get to see him anymore. And I’m tired of hotels, or B&Bs. I don’t know. I’m doing this.”

 

She gives him a look. “Alright, have fun.” She smiles, and salutes him when he gets out, then drives off.  
  
  
He stares up at the weatherboard house again – older even now, but just as canary-yellow as he remembers –and walks up to the front door, and knocks.

 

It opens.

 

“You’re home!” His dad opens the door, beaming and pulls him into a hug. He returns it emphatically.

 

It’s been maybe nine months since he’d seen his Dad in the flesh – having flown him to Portland for a show they did, but that had really been a quick catch-up as they’d had to go onto another city the next night so they’d only seen each other for dinner. It surprises Archie how much he’s missed him.

 

“Come in, come in.” Dad says, and Archie walks into a home he hasn’t been inside in a long time.

 

***

 

Josie checks into the tiny B&B and is unpacked in a few minutes. It’s still run by old Mrs Baker, who used to come to their class for careers day and talk about running the B&B, and she doesn’t seem to have changed it at all in over a decade, if not more.

 

When she’d checked in Mrs Baker had recognised her, but had thought she had only just left town last year. “You haven’t changed, dear!” She laughed, and Josie smiled along, privately somewhat annoyed. _Oh no, I’ve just aged ten years and become famous, no biggie._ It was petty, but she was hoping that wasn’t the only response she got this week.

 

Archie had wanted to stay for a few days and catch up with his Dad, so they weren’t just going to go to the reunion and leave. She understood how he felt, needing some time to work up to it, but did they have to spend that time here? They would almost certainly have some awkward encounters before Saturday. But he said that waiting till the last minute would probably lead to them chickening out, and they had to come.

 

The room is very basic – there’s a TV and free Wifi but she’s had enough of wasting time reading articles on her phone. It buzzes.

 

_Someone told me you just took off to go to some high school thing? Tell me that’s wrong girl._

There are a few texts like this that have been coming in, from ‘friends’ back home. They’re weird kinds of friends – there for a good time, fun to be around, but not close at all. She ignores the text, and gets up.

 

She decides to look around. 

 

Coming into the back-garden seating area she can hear someone talking loudly, probably into a phone as she can only hear one half of the conversation.

 

“No, I can’t do the 15th – No, I’m in Berlin on that day – Yes, of course I’m – Ok, I don’t love your tone—“

 

Josie wonders whether she can sneak back inside before the brunette woman turns around and sees her. But as she attempts to leave the woman turns, looking annoyed – then her eyes widen slightly as she catches sight of her.

 

“No, ok, I’m not doing this right now, you’re stressing me out – Jack? Jack!” She says, returning attention to the call, and then pulling her phone away from her ear and staring daggers at it.

 

They both stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say.

 

“Agent?” Josie ventures.

 

“No, uh, fiancée.” Veronica replies slowly.

 

Josie nods, wondering why this surprises her. She must have seen something about it on a magazine back home.

 

“Congrats.” She says, mostly out of habit. Without thinking too much about it, she says, “Everything ok?”

 Veronica smiles, like it’s no big deal. It might work on the public, but Josie remembers her “pretending everything is alright” smile well. They’d been friends once.

“Wedding planning is stressful, is all. We’ve got a professional but Jack doesn’t like what they’re doing, and he’s trying to lock in a date where neither one of us will be promoting, or filming.” She says, and then looks like she hadn’t meant to say so much.“I’m sorry. I hope you work it out.” She says automatically. It’s not that she doesn’t mean it, she does, but it’s a weird thing to have such a normal conversation with someone you haven’t spoken to in seven years.

  
 _“Is it weird I’m nervous? I mean I shouldn’t be.” Josie asked Archie._  
  
 _He shook his head next to her._  
  
 _“No, we worked hard on this album. I’m nervous too.” He agreed._  
  
 _“Good.”_  
  
 _She breathed in and out, feeling a little nauseous. “I’m just going to find a bathroom, before it starts.”_  
  
 _It’s not exactly their first Grammys – but they had more creative control on this album, wheedled Joseph into letting them write some songs. She was proud of the first one, wouldn’t have allowed it to be released if she hadn’t thought it was good – but this one was better._  
  
 _She hoped she wasn’t going to ruin her own night by throwing up before it started. The pre-show drink she’d had was bubbling uncomfortably in her stomach. She found the bathrooms, and they were empty – but for one woman drying her hands._  
  
 _They looked at each other, frozen for a minute._  
  
 _“Long time no see, bestie.” Veronica said crisply._  
  
 _She assumed an expression of casual detachment. “Yeah, I don’t remember getting any messages from you either. Guess you lost my number?”_  
  
 _Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t put this on me, Josie. You_ both _left saying you’d keep in touch, and I’ve been in contact with you what three, four times since you left?”_  
  
 _“Well, I’m sorry that I’ve just been busy trying to follow my life-long ambition. You should know how hard it is to keep afloat here!” Josie retorted. It was a deflection but she wasn’t wrong, either._  
  
 _“Then you’d know how busy I am too, so don’t you guilt me!”_  
  
 _They stood in angry silence. Someone was going to come in soon and leak the story to some dumb gossip blog, and then there’d be some twitter-trending article about their feud. It was_ hardly _a feud._  
  
 _“What are you doing here anyway?” She asked, less loudly._  
  
 _Veronica flipped a section of hair over her shoulder. “My boyfriend Kestrel is nominated for best breakout album. I’m just here supporting him.”_  
  
 _Josie nodded. “We’re nominated for that one too.”_  
  
 _Veronica raised her eyebrows minutely. “I’ll wish you both luck then.” She said, paused like she wanted to say more, and turned to leave._

  
  
That had spelled the end of her and Archie’s friendship too, giving way to just a few awkward glimpses of each other over the years. Josie felt guilty about this but really, it had only been the last nail in a coffin of their own making.  
  
  
“I didn’t know if you’d show up for the reunion,” Josie says awkwardly.  
  
  
Veronica nods. “They contacted me about six months ago.”  
  
  
She shook her head, an unwitting smile slipping out. “I knew it.” She mutters.

  
Veronica raises a well-practiced eyebrow. “What?”  
  


“It’s nothing,”  
  


Veronica raises both eyebrows now, somehow conveying a lot of meaning with the action.  
  


“We just thought you would’ve gotten more notice than us, and we were right.” She says tentatively, trying not to sound like she’s annoyed about it.

  
Veronica faintly grins at this, unexpectedly. “I mean, I do have a busy schedule.”  
  


There is silence. “So did Cheryl contact you? How did she get in contact with you?” Veronica says suddenly.  
  


Josie looks at her, momentarily speechless. “Uh – she called our label and managed to get them an invite, which they told us about.” She says, affecting a casual tone. She hopes. “I think she browbeat one of the PAs into doing it.”  
  


Veronica smiles wider again at this. “Yeah she found a way to getting my manager’s number and abused it mercilessly until he got me to come.”  
  


Josie smiles at little at this, but it feels like a rusty hinge, a faded copy of a feeling brought on by location nostalgia. “Sounds like her. Is that why you’re in this lovely place? I can’t imagine it was your first choice?” She says, changing the subject.  
  


Veronica sighs. “Ugh. I know, right? I wanted to stay at the Pembrooke, but I keep forgetting that Mom’s renting it out these days. So it was either this or staying miles out of town, probably near a highway.”  
  


Josie nods sympathetically. It feels like old times, but how much longer are they going to pretend that there isn’t a proverbial elephant right in the middle of the courtyard.  
  


She goes to say something but Veronica gets there first.  
  


She looks like she is hesitating for a moment, which is unlike her, then she says, “Do you want to get a drink? I’m already bored and I’ve only been here a few hours.”  
  


It’s an overture – one Josie is incredibly grateful for, as they’re both stubborn, you-blink-first people. She smiles, nodding. “Although if I we can get alcohol and bring it back here, I’d be very grateful.”  
  


Veronica grins, and Josie is viscerally reminded of her when they first met. “You’re totally right. Although one of us is going to have to sneak it past Mrs Baker. I can’t see her allowing it.”  
  


Josie returns the grin.  
  


***  
  
They’re sitting against the side of the bed, having flopped down from the top, and they’re laughing so much Josie feels again like she’s seventeen again.  
  


The cocktails Veronica made from a makeshift cocktail shaker are helping, though not much feels like it’s changed there either. Now they’re just wealthy enough to buy their own instead of swiping it from parental liquor cabinets.  
  


Veronica sighs. “I really missed you. God, I wish I’d tried to contact you after I saw you at that show, I’m sorry.” Her words are slightly slurred, but not much.  
  


Josie swats at her, lazily. “You already said sorry. I was the asshole there. _I’m_ ”  
  


Veronica laughs. “Maybe we were both assholes.”  
  


“Agreed.” Josie giggles. “I missed you too, girl...it’s just _so easy_ to get wrapped up in your own bullshit back home. I was _so focussed_ on us getting there, whatever there was, being able to be seen by everyone.” She shrugs.  
  


“You’d didn’t do too badly. It’s hard to find people who haven’t at least heard of you, if they’re not obsessed and telling me I _have_ to hear your new album.” Veronica says, poking her in the side and smiling.  
  


Josie laughs, looking at her in mock surprise. “Our little ol’ band? I don’t think we compare to Miss Movie Star here.”  
  


Veronica smiles, in the way that always made Josie think she’d be famous one day, too. Self-assured, confident without seeming obnoxious; born of money and privilege without seeming bratty. “Well, you know how it is, you work with a few good directors and suddenly you’re the Next Big Thing.” She says this with a thread of sarcasm, like she’s aware of what bullshit it is, which makes it feel like more than just a practised response to an interview question.  
  


“I always knew you would.” Josie says.  
  


Veronica smiles softer at this. “You too.” She says. “You know, I listened to your last album. I loved it...It made me cry, some of it.” She looks at Josie. “How is he?”  
  


Josie sighs. They had been circling around it, afraid to bring him up. Maybe because as long as they hadn’t, they could almost feel like the last decade or so hadn’t really happened, and everyone was still young and happy.  
  


She mentally chastises herself for that. She of all people knew that even then, none of them had been untouched by tragedy and trauma. They were just dealing with the aftershocks now.  
  


She looks at Veronica, who looks genuinely worried and a little afraid, possibly. She had a habit of saving people at school – hiding how much she actually cared under layers of cool confidence and sassy remarks. That clearly hadn’t changed in the last decade.  
  


“Archie’s ok. Well, he’s not...” She pauses, swallowing. “I think he’s doing better. We’re with a better label, now. And he’s not, he’s not so-“ She is surprised to realise she’s crying, and wonders if she’s drunker than she thought. Veronica puts a comforting arm around her. She really has missed her, has forgotten what it’s like to have close friends who are girls, not girlfriends she ends up fighting with.  
  


She breathes out. “I don’t want to be gossiping about him, I just – it got bad for a while, we were both in a bad place, and I still don’t know if I’m helping him. But I’m the only one he talks to if he’s feeling like shit. I just... worry about him, I guess.”  
  


“Look, Jose, I know I haven’t seen you guys in a while, so I don’t know your lives now,” Veronica says softly. “But, and I’m not trying to guilt you, one of the things that made me feel cut off from you was when I did see you both, you had grown so much closer. I didn’t – I guess I was afraid you didn’t need me.”  
  


Josie looks at her. “Really? I thought you were starting to think you didn’t need us.”  
  


Veronica smiles, ruefully. “Never. So don’t worry, Jose, I’m sure you’re invaluable to him.”  
  


It didn’t mean she was enough, but she smiled. “He liked that film you got a Golden Globe for. Well, we both did. It should have gotten the Oscar.”  
  


Veronica nods. “Yeah, you know. Politics. I’ll get ‘em next time.”  
  


“Did you...” She trails off, unsure how to phrase the question, and takes another sip of her drink. “Were you afraid? Was there ever a...moment... when you were afraid of if how people would look at you if you played that role?”  
  


Veronica seems to get her meaning anyway, and thinks for a moment, and takes another sip.  
  


“Maybe when I was first starting out, I would’ve. And maybe, I’m not as visibly queer as I’d like to be – but I don’t think I’d care if the world found out. I’ve known who I was for years, and if ignoring that for the Bible-belt middle America means passing on good films, out of fear? I say, _fuck that noise_!” She says, a familiar rebellious gleam in her eyes.  
  


“Right on!” Josie cheers, then sags a little. “I spent way longer than I should have hiding it. I’m not even exactly honest about it now, I’m just not making as much of an attempt to hide it from them all.”  
  


Veronica squeezes her shoulder. “I get it. It’s not like you want to make a press release about it, for everyone to eat up.”  
  


Josie shrugs. “We did attend LA Pride this year. That was as good as an admission as I feel like anyone is entitled to.”  
  


Veronica laughs, and then gives her a funny look.  
  


“What?” Josie giggles.  
  


Veronica bites her lip, half-smiling. “Did Archie ever figure it out?”  
  


Josie laughs, half-surprised. “Uh, figure out what?” She says, even though she’s aware of the answer. Even through a haze of drinks, she’s aware that it would be a shitty friend move to out him to an old friend who might not know, and who he hasn’t seen in years.  
  


Veronica gives her a look. “C’mon, I know. I pretty much guessed senior year. I’m not looking to tell a gossip website – I’ve just wondered about it sometimes.”  
  


Josie bites her tongue a moment. Of course she knew, because she knew everything. She had a way of getting you to talk.  
  


“Ok, but don’t, let on you know until he’s ready to tell you.” Josie caves.  
  


“So, don’t yell “HEY LOOK, GINGER BISEXUAL ONCOMING!” if I see him jogging around the town?” Veronica says, laughing.  
  


Josie laughs in spite of herself.  
  


“Honestly, I think you probably figured it out before he did. He didn’t even tell me till we were, what nearly twenty-one? I don’t know... I think he was just tired of trying to – not – be.”  
  


“I’m glad, then. Is he – happy?” Veronica asks quietly.  
  


Josie frowns. “Romantically, it’s complicated. We don’t really do relationships. There are...issues.”  
  


“Tell me about it.” Veronica agrees. “I mean I have Jack. Which is good. He’s a good guy. Mostly.” She is focusing on the end table behind Josie while saying this.  
  


“I’d hope so, you’re marrying him.” Josie says, catching her eye.  
  


Veronica sighs, and throws up her arms up messily. “I know! He asked me to marry him after a year, and that didn’t sound too bad at the time...” She trails off. “We’re a good couple – but we’re always away from each other, and he _might_ be cheating on me...I just wonder if he’s it for me? I don’t know if we even love each other enough to do this...”  
  


She leans her head on Josie’s shoulder. “Am I a bad person, Jose? Am I leading him on?”  
  


“You’re asking the wrong girl, Ronnie. I’ve always been the emotionally unreliable one in my relationships.” Josie replies sagely. Drunkenly, maybe but sagely.  
  


“I guess neither of us knows what we’re doing.” Veronica says, muffled partly by Josie’s shoulder.  
  


“Is there... maybe a reason you’re not so into your movie-star fiancée then? Someone you’re not over yet?” Josie hints heavily.  
  


Veronica sits up immediately. “Don’t go there, Jose.”  
  


But Josie has come this far, she may as well ask. “Did you come back for Betty?”  
  


Veronica frowns, but surprisingly, doesn’t get mad at her. “C’mon – it’s been like, eight years since I’ve seen her... And you know, she’s not interested... AND I have a fiancée, ugh!”  
  


Josie holds up her hands. “Hey, I’m just asking because you know I won’t judge you.”  
  


Veronica sinks back against the bed. “Ok, I – I don’t know. I just want to – see her. Maybe.” She turns to Josie with a devilish look. “Which begs me to ask – you came back for _her_ , didn’t you?”  
  


Josie goes to sip her drink and finds it empty, and so grabs the vodka bottle abandoned near the end table, and takes a swig of it.  
  


Veronica raises her eyebrows. “Wow, that bad? I’m also afraid to see Cheryl but not that much.”  
  


“I’m not afraid.” Josie croaks. The name still stirs a mixture of emotions around her stomach but that isn’t one of them. “There are other people I’m afraid to see – but not her. She acted exactly like I thought she would, don’t know why I was ever surprised.”  
  


Veronica leans her head against Josie’s. “Well at least you know she wanted you here. That’s something.”  
  


Josie snorts. “Yeah, as a famous musician get for her big party. Not as anything else.”  
  


Veronica doesn’t say anything, but entwines a comforting hand with Josie’s.  
  
***  
  
Having a ‘family dinner’ is a weird feeling, for Archie. When he last lived here, they only used the dining table sometimes, preferring the couch and coffee table in the living room. It felt sadder somehow after it became just the two of them to use all that space.  
  


No, well, they used it when Jughead was here, when he moved in with them. He remembers a glimpse of laughter and warmth, and decides to stop thinking about it.

“This pasta is really good, Hermione.” He says to the new third member of the table. Well, it’s been years, he should really stop thinking of it as ‘new’.

  
She smiles graciously, with warmth, looking so much like her daughter. “Thankyou, Arch. I have to think of these things or your dad would only ever eat steak.”  
  
  
He laughs. “Or takeout from Pop’s.” Hermione laughs too.  
  
  
His Dad looks mock-offended. “I’m being attacked on all sides here!” He says, but he’s smiling, and they’re laughing. Hermione looks at him like he’s ridiculous, and she loves it and he grins back like she’s the sun and he’s just happy to be in her orbit. Archie tries to remember if his mom and dad ever looked like that when they were together, maybe it was earlier than he can remember. He hasn’t looked at someone like that in years.  
  
  
He notices something else pass in their shared gaze, like he’s prompting her.  
  
  
“So, you’re in town til the reunion on Saturday night?” Hermione asks, a little too casually.  
  
  
He nods. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Then Josie and me are back to L.A.”  
  
  
They’re watching his reaction, he realises. What are they gonna say? He’s not exactly the flip-a-table type.  
  
  
“We were thinking, since Veronica’s coming into town too, that it might be nice to have a dinner with all of us. Maybe tomorrow night?” Hermione continues.  
  
  
“I mean, it’s hardly a bad thing that our kids are so successful, but it’s rare we’re all the same place at the same time.” His dad adds, smiling at him in a slightly apologetic way.  
  
  
True, this is sort of by design – Veronica and he have been avoiding ‘family’ things together for years, and they’ve barely glimpsed each other only a handful of times in the last few years. But he’s not a child anymore; he’s not going to freak out if they just want them all to have dinner together, as uncomfortable as that may end up being.  
  
  
He smiles at them. “That’s fine with me.”  
  
  
He sees their expressions visibly relax and wonders if they’ve asked Veronica yet. In his experience, she was the one more likely to get angry.  
  
  
“So when does she get in?” He asks.  
  
  
“Oh, she got in today, too. I think it was earlier than she wanted, but it ended up being today.” Hermione says, looking happy he’s asking. “She’s at Mrs Baker’s B&B – which she didn’t love, but she wasn’t keen on staying here either, so it was this or way out of town...”  
  
  
He took this in, wondering how Josie was, and if she’d run into Veronica yet.  
  


***  
  
Jogging, usually a mind-clearing experience for Archie, was again different here. It flooded his mind with nostalgia – memories of running down Elm, walking home together on Kennedy Ave, how the trees looked in the fall in the early morning.  
  
  
The old song playing on his phone is frenetic, makes him feel energetic. He used to feel like if he could just keep running, just keep going, eventually he’d get far enough away from it all.  
  
 _  
Hold me again don’t count mistakes, I lost track of them_  
  
  
He runs past the corner where he sprained his ankle falling off the back of Jughead’s bike, seeing for a moment a young, dark haired eleven-year-old speeding along on a rusty child’s bike and a red-headed boy standing on the back and holding onto his shoulders, both of them cheering madly.  
  
 _  
I’d be alright if I could just see you come up for air, come up for air._  
  
  
He realises suddenly where his memory-drenched brain has unwittingly taken him past and he feels like he’s gonna be sick. Charlotte Street looms ahead. His breathing speeds up.  
  
  
He doesn’t need to go down there. He doesn’t need to see if he can stand outside her house. It’s just a house, it’s ok, she doesn’t live there anymore.  
  
  
It doesn’t feel like that though. If he goes down there will he be a teenage boy, a child in an adult body he’s not used to yet?  
  
  
He really does feel like he’s gonna be sick, if he can just find a less residential street, he just needs to get out of the public –  
  
  
“Wow, could you watch where you’re going, _bro?_ ” The last word is heavily sarcastic, but the whole sentence belongs to a familiar voice. He’s bumped into someone, unaware of anything in his rush to get away, and is now realising that semi-hot liquid is soaking into his shirt.  
  
  
He jumps back out of instinct, and sees Kevin Keller in front of him, carrying an empty cardboard coffee tray and wearing a stunned expression.  
  
  
“Ho-ooly shit.” He says slowly, like he’s frozen on the spot.  
  
  
Archie looks down and sees three coffee cups and the rest of the liquid that isn’t on him pooling on the ground. By some miracle of physics, it seems to have barely touched Kevin’s crisp, light-blue shirt.  
  
  
“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Kevin.” He pants, the three-quarters-of-a-mile he’s already run catching up with him. “I should have been watching where I was going.”  
  
  
Kevin unfreezes, a very Kevin-like mixture of disbelief and awe on his face. “That is true, but I didn’t just give you third degree burns there, did I?”  
  
  
Archie thinks for a moment, but there’s only the sense memory of the coffee’s heat on his chest now. “No, I’m fine. I barely felt it.”  
  
  
Kevin’s still watching him like he’s a rare species of bird. “I’m sorry, this is just _really_ What are you doing on my coffee shop-work route, Archie?”  
  
  
“Jogging,” Kevin raises an eyebrow. “Oh, we came back for the reunion thing. I kinda thought you would have heard it from Cheryl first.” He says, somewhat confused.  
  
  
Archie feels a little taken-aback. Perhaps they were supposed to be an exciting surprise for the reunion? He would have thought she would want to tell everyone who she managed to get to come. Josie had definitely RSVP’d for them - he had watched her do it.  
  
  
Kevin nods. “Oh she totally told me, and everyone else – I never thought you were actually going to come though!”  
  
  
He nods, wondering what to say to this. “Well, you know. Ten years is a long time to be away.”  
  
  
“You’re telling me. I barely recognised you, with the tattoos and all. I would have never pictured you as the type – I mean, I’ve seen pictures of you and Josie on the internet, but it’s a different thing in the flesh –“ He stops himself, looking faintly pink. “What I mean is, it’s good to see you.”  
  
  
Archie smiles, for real this time. “Good to see you too.” He looks at the spilt coffees again. “I am so sorry about those. Can I buy you new ones?”  
  
  
Kevin smiles. “Sure, I mean, if you can’t get your famous rock-star high-school friends to buy you hot drinks then what is even the point?” He says, still looking like he was really not expecting the morning to turn out like this. “I’ll warn you, I am going to be late for work, so if you want to get out of carrying them back to the office with me, I’d make a break for it now.”  
  
  
Archie half-laughs. “I’m happy to help explain how I made you late. I’ve had my fair share of scary executives giving me shit.”  
  
  
Kevin’s eyes widen minutely at this. “Ok, but you don’t know who I work with yet.”  
  
  
“I’m sure it will be ok. Did Cheryl tell you Veronica’s coming on Saturday, too?”  
  


Kevin gasps. “No, she never told me she’d responded! _Wow,_ that’s gonna be an intense night.”  
  
  
“You’re telling me.”  
  
  
***  
  
  
They definitely got a few stares in the coffee shop. He was used to the feeling usually, but here he didn’t know if they were recognising him as a musician or as a kid that used to live in town.  
  
  
He holds the coffee tray as they walk towards the centre of town.  
  
  
“You’re married?” He says, trying not to sound like he’s too surprised.  
  
  
Kevin nods. “One year anniversary’s coming up.” He beams.  
  
  
“Wow, that’s awesome, man. Is he anyone I know?” Archie asks.  
  
  
Kevin shakes his head. “Yeesh, no-one we went to school with, if that’s what you’re asking. I met him just after college, and we ended up here again.”  
  
  
Archie grins. “Good on you.”  
  
  
“Thank-you.” He pauses. “How about you? Anyone special?”  
  
  
He half-laughs. “ _Fuck_ ”  
  
  
Kevin chokes slightly on his drink, and he realises he’s forgotten he’s not talking to Josie again.  
  
  
“Are you ok?” He asks Kevin, with a hint of the sardonic.  
  
  
Kevin smirks, nodding. “Sorry, I just don’t think I ever heard you swear in the entire time I knew you. Don’t worry, I’ll get used to Dark & Gritty Archie, just give me a moment.”  
  
  
Archie laughs. “It just kinda happened, and now it’s habit.”  
  
  
“Uh-huh. Can’t go saying ‘aw jee golly’ as a rockstar, people would laugh.”  
  
  
“Ok, I never said that, c’mon.”  
  
  
Kevin turns to him. “We’re here. Gird your loins.” The reference seems vaguely familiar, but he doesn’t focus on it.  
  
  
They enter a modern-looking office, and Kevin walks towards a room at the back, handing a coffee to the confused-looking secretary on the way.  
  
  
“Keller, what the fuck happened? Did you decide on a quick hike instead of the coffees?” He recognises the voice coming from the room before he sees the wave of red hair and smells the floral perfume.  
  
  
“I ran into someone on the way, Cheryl.” Kevin replies long-sufferingly as she turns around, and he finds himself face-to-face with Cheryl Blossom _. A little warning would have been appreciated, thanks Kevin_.  
  
  
She looks more professional now, but her familiar red hair still curls onto one shoulder. She looks taken aback for maybe a millisecond or so, then settles into a casual, bored look.  
  
  
“Actually, I literally ran into him. Which is why the coffees are late, I wanted to replace them.” He adds. She might be much shorter than them, but apparently she still scares him a bit.  
  
  
“Looks like it. I’m guessing you’re wearing half the coffee shop.” She says crisply.  
  
  
He realises he’s still wearing his sweaty running singlet, which he hadn’t changed because it was dark-coloured and already damp with sweat. He’s regretting this now, really wishing he’d asked Kevin who he worked with.  
  
  
She’s raking her eyes over the tattoos on his arms, and those showing through the wide armholes of his singlet. Josie was right; he should throw this shirt out. It’s not even a particularly lustful gaze, more like she’s filing the information away, trying to figure out his secrets. She had a knack for that in school, and it’s no less unsettling here.  
  
  
“I’m going to go home and change soon anyway, so.” He replies awkwardly.  
  
  
She smirks. “I didn’t expect to see you before Saturday, much less in my own office. What do you think?” She says in a way that implies she’s showing off, but also doesn’t care about his approval. And yet, it doesn’t feel offensive – probably because after going to school with her for over a decade he expects it from her. It’s not her fault, really, given the people she was raised by.  
  
  
“It’s...great. Very modern.” He bluffs, trying to remember if he’d seen any signs indicating what it was they did here in their nicely furnished office.  
  
  
Kevin laughs. “It’s ok, I didn’t tell you. We’re event-planners. We own the business together.”  
  
  
He is genuinely surprised by this. Even after ten years in the industry, he finds it hard to think of what he does as ‘a grown up job’ – even though he is very much now a grown man – and this is actually one of them. They own a business. He imagined when he was younger, that he would either be working for his dad’s own business or maybe having one of his own. When did they all get to this age, already?  
  
  
“Wow, you own a business. That’s awesome!” He says, genuinely.  
Kevin laughs again. “Well it’s not exactly performing at Glastonbury, or being on _Rolling Stone_ but we like it.”  
  
  
Cheryl beams. “Blossom & Keller has just taken off since we did that actress’ wedding. The buzz on us has lasted longer than her marriage, although that wouldn’t be hard.” She says brightly, and Kevin snorts.  
  
  
He wonders if they’re friends. He really wouldn’t have imagined it in school, but if anyone can understand unlikely adult friendships it’s him.  
  
  
“That’s awesome, really.” He says honestly. “I am covered in coffee stains, and I ran nearly a mile before I ran into Kevin, so I think I’ll go home and change. It’s great to see you though.”  
  
  
Cheryl looks at Kevin. “Kevin, go ask Saskia if she’s confirmed our 3pm with the Baxters.”  
  
  
He shoots her a look. “And one day, you’ll even learn to say things nicely.” He snipes, but leaves.  
  
  
Archie looks at Cheryl, wondering if she has something to say to him privately. She looks at him for a moment, and then says with a very Cheryl smile. “Well,   
goodbye then. See you on Saturday.”  
  
  
He frowns, confused, and then says, “Sure...see you then.”  
  
  
He turns to go and is about to walk out the door when he hears her say softly, “Did Josie come with you?”  
  
  
He turns to look at her. “Yes.” He says, and she suddenly looks vulnerable and small. He doesn’t say anything else, just leaves the office.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Betty Cooper walks back from the Tran Bakery, holding a package of bear claws, and a plain bagel in another. Why you would choose that over the delicious sugary goodness of a pastry is beyond her, but she tries not to judge.  
  
  
It’s a work in progress.  
  
  
She comes into the _Riverdale Chronicle_ and drops the brown paper bag with the bagel in it on Jughead’s desk.  
  
  
“Your sugarless bread donut, Grandpa.” She teases him.  
  
  
He shakes his head, smiling. “Remember that when I have all my actual teeth at ninety, Betty.”  
  
  
“Are you finished your article? I was thinking we could hang out tonight.” She asks.  
He frowns. “As much as I would love to spend tonight watching old movies with you, I can’t. I’ve got to do some more research.”  
  
  
She swats at him, frowning. He swats back, grinning. “Ask Kevin, or Polly, or something.”  
  
  
“Ugh, but Kevin’s probably going to be doing married things, and Polly’s working.” She whines. There is probably work she could get on with tonight, but it’s not like she’s not on top of her assignments.  
  
  
She decides to call Kevin on the off-chance he’s willing to be talking into doing something after work, but then sees that he’s ringing her. She picks up.  
  
  
“Hey, Kev – before you say anything, is there a chance I can talk you into hanging out with me tonight instead of your charming husband?” Betty says lightly.  
  
  
“It’s possible,” Kevin replies. “But what I’m calling you about is – I just thought you should know so you don’t get blindsided – Josie and Archie are back in town. I know because I literally was blindsided by him when I was going to work this morning.”  
  
  
“Oh.” She says faintly. “Cool. Good. Thanks for the heads up.”  
  
  
“Just looking out for you.”  
  
  
“Thanks – I uh, have to go. Text me about tonight.” She says and hangs up.  
  
  
Usually the return of your childhood best friend should be exciting. Not so much when you haven’t been in touch for years.  
  
  
She looks over where Jughead is working, cradling his phone between his shoulders and head as he looks up something on his computer, and she sighs.  
  
  
Hopefully that’s the only awkwardness she’ll have to deal with before Saturday.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to do something a little different wrt the structure than i'd originally planned but I hope it pans out well hahaha
> 
> archie's jogging song is - 'miracle mile' by the cold war kids, a primo running song if there was one :)


	5. The First Cut Is The Deepest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to freak weather related internet outages, this is up later than i meant but it's the longest chapter i've written so enjoy :)

 

 _When I was a kid, the things I did were hidden under the grid, young and naive I never believed that love could be so well hid, with regret, I’m willing to bet they say the older you get, it gets harder to forgive and harder to forget –_ **Passenger, The Wrong Direction**  
  
  
Jughead Jones has his morning routine worked out. He’s still grateful and a little disbelieving, even now, that he even has something as mundane and ‘normal’ as an adult morning routine. There was a long period of time where the idea of having a job, his own place, education post-high school seemed impossible – because he had been without one or more of those things before, and it hadn’t been so easy to imagine ever having any again.  
  
  
The routine is simple: Monday-Friday, wake up at seven, shower, dress, eat breakfast, and stop off at the coffee shop before work.  
  
  
He rents an apartment about forty minutes walk from the office, or about a fifteen-minute drive in. It’s not a modern apartment, and it’s pretty small – but it’s his, and the rent isn’t bad. It’s proof that he has a stake in the world, a home, a testament to not being the fuck-up some of his teachers assumed he’d become.  
  
  
His car is old – a make from his senior year of high school, though he couldn’t honestly say what the model was called, because who is he, Betty? – but it still goes, and it gets him to work fine. Where else does he need to go that’s a further distance, in this town?  
  
  
He has the radio on as he drives to the coffee shop near work. Top 40 chart songs aren’t something he generally cares for – his phone being full of soft indie music and rock songs from decades before he was born – but he woke up, in the occasional mood he gets, feeling like he wanted to listen to a few dumb pop songs.  
  
  
It’s a sunny day, and he even sings along to one or two of the dumb pop songs. He wonders how he somehow knows the lyrics but is sure it’s some kind of osmosis – they’re always playing the most popular new songs in the supermarket, or in Pop’s, or wherever you end up waiting ten minutes and hearing them as background noise.  
  
  
Something comes on, unobtrusively, while he’s distracted making a turn. The beginning sounds are familiar but he’s not really paying attention.  
  
  
 _Days when, we’d fight we’d fight till I would give in  
_  
  
He hears the lyrics and begins to frown in recognition, but is too busy focusing on the road to do anything about it.  
  
  
 _Perfect disasters, we were swinging, swinging from the rafters.  
_  
  
He reaches an intersection and rapidly hits the off button. He should have known better than to listen to the radio, really. That was another reason he avoided it.  
  
  
The stations were obsessed with the song recently, as he kept hearing it in all those places you have to wait and bear whatever music they decide to inflict on their customers. He sometimes felt like once again, the universe was playing some cosmically cruel joke on him. He certainly wasn’t the one keeping up with gossip blogs or stalking Instagrams, or whatever it was Kevin and Cheryl got their info from doing. He didn’t want to know, and yet it kept being waved in his face.  
  
  
He parked the car outside the coffee shop, feeling annoyed that his good mood had been somewhat ruined, and more annoyed that it had been so easy.  
  
  
It was ridiculous, anyway. It was such a long time ago – and yet Archie was brought back into his life everytime he couldn’t get that stupid song out of his head. At least it was only his voice, though.  
  
  
He was now looking forward a lot to the simple black coffee that he would buy inside, and getting to work so he could complain to Betty about stupid things, and she would laugh and tell him what she and Kevin got up to last night, and he would forget about this – but as he looked up to open the coffee shop door he almost collided with someone, and remembered the universe had it in specifically for him, laughing its anthropomorphic head off at its best cosmic joke yet.  
  
  
 _Murphy’s law: if something can go wrong, it will,_ floats across his mind for a moment.  
  
  
“Jughead?”  
  
  
It would have been impossible for him not to see any photos of his former best friend, especially when his job involved much time looking up information on the internet, so he wasn’t completely shocked by the person in front of him – but a half-glimpsed photo on a news website was different to seeing someone look so different right in front of you.  
  
  
His mental picture of Archie – all earnest smiles and leather varsity jackets – didn’t account for the colourful tattoos on his arms, disappearing into the armholes of his t-shirt, not a full sleeve on either side but still more than he would have expected a boy who fainted getting flu shots when they were ten to have. It didn’t account for the more adult set of his face, or the tired lines around his eyes, or the reddish stubble already regrown from a probably-recent shave.  
  
  
Archie Andrews, in the flesh, looks somewhere between a mixture of startled, afraid and annoyed to be running into him – even though it is pre-work hours, and it is the only actual cafe in town (and the only one to attempt to make coffee more complicated than what came out of a pot).  
  
  
Jughead realises he hasn’t said anything in response, and unsticks his throat. “Archie.” He says curtly, silently grateful his voice didn’t come out reedy or cracked.  
  
  
Archie swallows, holding an apparently forgotten coffee in his right hand. “It’s good to see you,” He manages, awkwardly.  
  
  
“Looks like it.” He drawls, hoping he sounds more detached and less like someone who was put in a tailspin just by the thought of Archie this very morning.  
  
  
“I – I didn’t recognise you without your hat, for a moment. I guess in my head you’re always wearing it.” Archie says unexpectedly, the sound of a smile that never quite reached his lips in his words.  
  
  
Something in that makes him feel off-balance, like he’s losing the winning ground here, to seem detached and uncaring. It annoys him greatly. “Uh, it’s more of a weekend beanie now.” He replies faintly. Clearly, straight coldness isn’t going to be possible so he aims for the old snarky detachment. “I almost didn’t recognise you either, with those tattoos and the facial hair. Very rockstar of you.”  
  
  
He sees Archie react to the deliberate barb, and feels darkly amused for a moment. “Yeah.” He says, and half-chuckles sardonically, without mirth. He doesn’t break eye contact though.  
  
  
“What are you doing here?” Jughead asks. It feels like the question he should have asked first, but his brain fog only just cleared.  
  
  
Archie looks almost surprised by the question, like he comes back to town every weekend. “Oh, uh, we’re here for the reunion. Cheryl managed to contact us.”  
  
  
 _We_ , he remembers again. He never disliked Josie, but he is reminded that she’s not even the first girl Archie replaced him with as best friend. That’s probably not fair though, Betty had technically known him longer, and they’d grown up side by side.  
  
  
“Right, that. She’s efficient.” He says, barely thinking about what he’s saying.  
  
  
Neither of them says anything.  
  
  
“Well, I have to get a coffee and get to work before I’m late, so, uh...” He starts awkwardly, just then aware that he still needs to get to work, and “reappearance of past ghosts” isn’t usually a favourable excuse for lateness.  
  
  
Archie nods rapidly. “Yeah, totally, bye then.” He says rotely, but not in an uncaring manner.  
  
  
He nods, and Archie turns and he walks toward the coffee shop door.  
  
  
“Jughead!” He hears behind him. Confused, he turns around.  
  
  
Archie has turned back and looks acutely uncomfortable, but determined, like he’s about to complete a necessary but dangerous activity. “Are you free tonight, after dinner? To catch up?” He asks defiantly.  
  
  
Jughead stares. Ol’ Doesn’t Know When To Let Uncomfortable Civilities Lie Andrews here has ruined his perfect getaway. And has now put the onus on him to make the decision. Again. Jughead hates him for it, because It would be so damn easy to not. It would be so fucking easy to tell him that _no_ bygones can’t be _fucking bygones_ when _one of the fucking bygones moved across the country to get away.  
_  
  
“Yeah, I think so.” He says instead.  
  
  
Archie smiles – small, a shadow of what it could be, but genuine. “8:30 at Pop’s ok?” He says. He probably doesn’t know any other places to eat in town that are still open, or existed ten years ago.  
  
  
“Ok. I really have to go now though,” He says, feeling like he’s lost the fight, again.  
  
  
Archie nods. “Sorry. I won’t hold you up any longer.” He says, and turns to go, leaving Jughead to wonder what just happened.  
  
***  
  
Betty sits at her computer, barely focussing on her work.  
  
  
She shakes herself, and looks down at her notes and searches something but she’s not even really thinking about it.  
  
  
She’s thinking about yesterday.  
  
  
 _She had popped into the corner mart to grab some snacks – popcorn, red vines and the like – for watching movies with Kevin, and had just been browsing the aisles when she saw her walk in.  
_  
  
 _She quickly leapt back into the canned goods aisle, hoping desperately Veronica Lodge: Movie Star didn’t have a burning need for soup or tinned peas.  
_  
  
 _Luckily she walked into another aisle and seemed headed for the cold goods. She was wearing a cape again, because of course she couldn’t just walk into a market, or a diner,_ not _looking like a mysterious, beautiful witch here to steal everyone’s hearts.  
_  
  
 _She looked good. Of course she did, she probably had a whole team of people to get her ready these days.  
_  
  
 _Betty realised she’d been lurking in the canned goods too long, as Veronica was on the move back her way now.  
_  
  
 _She would have been spotted if Veronica hadn’t seen someone else, and stopped to say hi – then she ran for it as quietly as she could, without even buying anything.  
_  
  
This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, and she was going to focus on fact-checking for this article – a process that was personally more important, given the long, dark shadow her mother’s tenure here had cast on her reputation the moment she accepted a job here. She was not going to think about someone she used to know once, who probably hadn’t thought about _her_ in years.  
  
  
She sighed and turned away from the screen, thinking she might make herself some coffee and wake her brain up, when she saw Jughead come in.  
  
  
He was heading straight for her, looking irritable.  
  
  
“Oh, Jug, did you get another ticket? I’ve told you not to park on that street, I know it’s close but-“ She begins.  
  
  
He shakes his head. Up close she can see he looks rattled, the way he used to look when things got bad with his father, in high school.  
  
  
“Did you know Archie was back for the reunion? Because I just ran into him, getting my coffee.” He asks in a rush, irritable.  
  
  
 _Oh, so just the important thing she’d meant to tell him yesterday, and had then been pushed from her mind by her own supermarket close encounter. Shit.  
_  
  
“No?” She says, attempting surprise.  
  
  
He frowns, at her specifically this time. “You’re a terrible liar, Cooper.”  
  
  
She cringes. “I’m really sorry! Kevin only told me yesterday–“  
  
  
“Yesterday? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Trust me, I could have used the warning... How would you like it?” He says, incredulously mad.  
  
  
Her heart sinks, remembering yesterday. “Well, I almost ran into Veronica at the store yesterday. And ended up hiding in the canned goods aisle, and then having to run out without buying anything. So, karma’s already ahead on points for me.”  
  
  
She must look pretty embarrassed and miserable recounting this, as his irritation drops almost immediately on her reply. He reaches out a comforting arm to her shoulder, looking sympathetic.  
  
  
“I wanted to be mad at you for longer, but I guess you’ve suffered enough.” His tone is begrudging but he’s smiling.  
  
  
She smiles back. “Thanks, Juggie.” She sighs. “Saturday night looks like it’s gonna be a nightmare, huh?”  
  
  
He nods.  
  
She looks at him, realising she hasn’t asked yet. “So how did your run in with Archie go?”  
  
  
He looks at her, like he’d been wrapped up in his own thoughts. “Uh, weird. I don’t know. I’m apparently meeting up with him for a “catch-up” tonight, so that’s...happening.”  
  
  
She raises an eyebrow. “You agreed to this?”  
  
  
He nods, apparently surprised too. “Seems like it.”  
  
  
She watches him run a hand through his dark hair, and something in his expression reminds her of him at fifteen, sixteen – even skinnier, smaller, more anxious. He always gave way, when Archie and him had fought. How could he not? She only had a slight more capacity to stay mad herself. It was like yelling a Labrador for doing something bad to your shoes – it would only make you feel better for a little while, then you realised it wasn’t going to know better anyway.  
  
  
That time was different though, and it had taken both Jughead and her a long time to get over it, if they ever had.  
  
  
She has a flash of a trembling teenage boy in a soaked grey beanie, knocking at her window.  
  
  
 _“What are you doing out in the rain? Jesus, Jug!” She said, opening her window and helping him in.  
_  
  
 _“My parents are away for the weekend, so don’t worry about my mom kicking you out.”_  
  
 _  
He didn’t respond to anything, just stood there shivering._  
  
 _  
“What happened?” She asked, genuinely worried, wondering if something had happened with his Dad. Sometimes she didn’t know whether she’d rather have her mom or his dad. Sometimes she wished they could just leave them both behind.  
_  
  
 _“He’s gone. He – he just – gone.” Jughead got out, teeth chattering, and swallowed._

 _  
She began to ask who but she realises the answer before the word really left her mouth.  
_  
  
 _She felt her throat constrict, utterly confused by but sure of the reality. “Without – saying anything?” She asked quietly.  
_  
  
 _He tried to say something but his face crumpled, and she pulled him into a hug. She hoped he didn’t see the tears in her eyes too, this is about him right now. Her own hurt could wait.  
_  
  
She hopes, above everything, that this isn’t going to go horribly wrong – but she’s not certain it isn’t headed that way for both of them.  
  
  
***  
  
“Yes, mom. I know. I’ll be there. Ok, bye.” Josie says into her phone, and hangs up. She stares at the screen in mild irritation. Her mom is the only family member she’s in contact with anymore, and she does love her. The woman did a lot to help her get to where she is today, and for that she is grateful. Mostly.  
  
  
But sometimes – sometimes, she is reminded of why she is glad of the space she has. Still, knowing what other friends’ mothers are like, she is also reminded that she’s lucky her mom even loves her, and isn’t insane.  
  
  
“Josie! Look at you, you look so healthy! And you’re keeping in shape, that’s good, I guess that diet is working?” Her mom exclaims when she comes by the office. She smiles, and doesn’t react to the subtle dig – she knows her mom means well, even when she implies things like that.  
  
  
“You look great too, Mom!” She says, hugging her. Her mom looks pleased at the compliment, and Josie didn’t give it falsely – for a woman in her early fifties, she has the arms and tight skin of a woman twenty years younger at least.  
  
  
“Just let me get my purse, and we’ll go to lunch, baby.” Her mom says, beaming. “You can go ahead if you want.”  
  
  
She doubles back through her office door, and Josie waits in the corridor.  
  
  
Then she hears a familiar voice down the hall. “I was promised an audience with the mayor, so excuse you! I need her signature on some important permits!”  
  
  
Josie freezes, seeing Cheryl come round the corner. Cheryl’s gaze falls on her and she stops haranguing the aide, who quickly runs off.  
  
  
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, like she’s computing a response. Josie can almost see the wheels turning behind her bright eyes.  
  
  
“Josie,” She says, smiling, the one that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m so happy you could come. Saturday night is going to be a great night!”  
  
  
She’s about to say something, something much less pleasant, but her mom comes out with her purse.  
  
  
“Sorry baby, I had to talk to a staffer for a moment as I was leaving, we can go-“ She sees Cheryl and her eyes narrow minutely, a microexpression that Josie only recognises from having grown up with her, then she smiles widely.  
  
  
“Cheryl Blossom. Wow, you and my daughter must be happy to catch up! How long has it been, Josie?” Her mum says brightly, unaware of Josie’s stiff expression. It’s not her fault, she only ever knew Cheryl as either; that friend of hers with the strange parents, and later that poor friend of hers with the dead brother who was always harassing Sheriff Keller to _do something about it_.  
  
  
“Since the end of high school.” Josie replies politely, tight-lipped.  
  
  
Cheryl turns to Josie’s mom. “I’m here to see you, actually, Mayor McCoy –“  
  
  
Josie’s mom nods. “And I’m so sorry, Cheryl, but I’m on my way to lunch with Josie now. I’m sure you know how hard it is for me to see her what with her schedule, and my work.” She says smoothly, brushing her off in her experienced politician way.  
  
  
“But-“ Cheryl starts.  
  
  
“Come in tomorrow, around ten, I’ll see what I can do, thank-you.” Her mom says and they walk past her, and out of the building, leaving Cheryl in their wake.

 _  
“Josie, we just don’t have the time. You’ve got your dance lesson, and then singing practice, then your lesson on Sunday.” Her mom said, looking through the dresses.  
_  
  
 _“Mom, please – can I just go? It’s one sleepover, I never go to them.” Josie complained, even though her mom wasn’t looking at her. It’s not like she had many friends, certainly not ones that she hung out with much outside of school. She could blame it on all the extracurricular classes she took, but honestly it was kind of lonely to have lived here since she was ten, and three years later have reached eighth-grade without any best friends.  
_  
  
 _“What do you think of this one, Jose?” Her mom asked, doing her usual politician-avoiding-the-answer trick – currently she was just working in the mayor’s office but Josie knew she was planning to run soon – and the way she always did that drove her crazy.  
_  
  
 _“Mom, you’re not listening! People will stop inviting me to things if I don’t go, do you want that?” She protested.  
_  
  
 _“Josie, can you answer me, I’m trying to help here. Also, I’m not sure you want to sleepover in Alice Cooper’s house. That woman gives me the heebies.” Her mom replied, sounding a bit exasperated.  
_  
  
 _No, of course there’s a reason, it’s not just that you think friends will distract me from our goals, she thinks angrily. She wasn’t even close with Betty Cooper, but they were assigned desks next to each other in class, and they were friendly. Still, she’d been surprised to be invited to a birthday sleepover, but Betty had been so nice she couldn’t bear to say no immediately.  
_  
  
 _“Mom, I’m literally just asking for this one night!” She said, louder this time.  
_  
  
 _“Damnit Josie, why don’t you get that this doesn’t matter! I’m trying to help set up a good future for you, and you’re just being really – really ungrateful!” Her mom exploded, still holding a black dress on a hanger.  
_  
  
 _She stared at her mom and her vision shook. “I’m going to go wait in the car.” She hissed, and walked as quickly as she could away.  
_  
  
 _Not to mention, she was going to have this stupid Megan Trainor song in her head all day. Why hadn’t the world let her fade back into obscurity after that bass song? Why were girl-clothing stores required to play inane pop songs all day?  
_  
  
 _In the car park she was looking for the place they had parked when she glimpsed two red-headed women coming out of a car. Josie wasn’t usually bullied because she didn’t take any attempts to without giving it back, but she also didn’t want to run into the richest, meanest girl in school while she was alone and about to cry. She ducked behind a car, but she could hear Cheryl’s mother’s voice.  
_  
  
 _“...You always have to make this a production, don’t you? The Cheryl show is not something anyone wants to watch, young lady! You really are a selfish, selfish girl!”  
_  
  
 _Josie froze, realising just how much more awkward this moment would be if they saw her.  
_  
  
 _“Mom, please don’t –“ Cheryl begged, in a voice choked with sobs. It wasn’t the petulant whining of a spoiled child either, that Josie would have expected. She sounded devastated. She sounded scared.  
_  
  
 _“I’m not going into the store with you looking like that, Cheryl. I’m going to go in, you stay here and join me when you’ve calmed down.” Mrs Blossom’s steely voice said, and Josie shuddered, suddenly grateful for her own mother.  
_  
  
 _She heard Mrs Blossom storm off and Cheryl sobbing, and wondered if she could maybe just stay here for the next hour until it was certain wouldn’t have to let Cheryl know she was there.  
_  
  
 _She attempted to move back but kicked a rock, and her heart jumped.  
_  
  
 _“Is someone there?” Cheryl called. “I have mace, if you’re a rapist.”  
_  
  
 _She didn’t move, and her heart raced.  
_  
  
 _“I know you’re there!” She called again, “I’m really not in the mood!” She yelled and began to cry again.  
_  
  
 _Josie’s heart broke for her at that moment, and she decided she may as well get up.  
_  
  
 _“What in the hell were you doing?” Cheryl said irritably, though tears were still falling down her pale cheeks.  
_  
  
 _Josie frowned. “I didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever that was, I was just trying to get back to my mom’s car, ok?”  
_  
  
 _Cheryl scowled. “Well, now you can tell everyone at school about it. I’m sure they’ll love it.”  
_  
  
 _Josie’s expression softened. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Are you ok, though?”  
_  
  
 _Cheryl nodded, wiping her eyes with a tissue from her purse. She didn’t look ok. “Just mom stuff. She’s jealous of me, because I’m young and beautiful and she’s old and washed up.” Cheryl said, with a touch of her usual flippant tone.  
_  
  
 _Josie laughed a little at this, wondering if she was joking or not. “Yeah, I get that. I love my mom, but she’s really strict about anything social, and she wants me to do all these lessons – which I like, but also I’d like to go to the big sleepovers sometime too?”  
_  
  
 _Cheryl smiled, genuinely, at this. “Are you going to Betty’s party then?”  
_  
  
 _“I don’t know if my mom will let me. I know that’s lame, but I don’t wanna disobey her.” Josie replied, feeling upset about it again. “I didn’t know you were friends?”  
_  
  
 _Cheryl smiled wickedly. “I don’t think her mom likes me. Maybe she’s trying to prove a point. I didn’t know she had it in her, actually.”  
_  
  
 _Josie nodded.  
_  
  
 _“Please try and come, It’ll be nice to have a friend there.” Cheryl asked suddenly.  
_  
  
 _“What about the other girls that are going? You’re friends with some of them, right?” Josie deflected.  
_  
  
 _Cheryl made an unimpressed face. “Not real friends. They_ would _tell everyone.”  
_  
  
 _Josie wondered how a few minutes ago she feared this girl seeing her cry, and now all she felt was sad for her. Even though she didn’t deal with it the same way, she recognised what Cheryl was now. Takes one emotionally distant parent-having, emotional wall-creating kid to know another.  
_  
  
 _“Ok. I’ll try.” She said kindly, although she didn’t believe she’d get to.  
  
_  
 _Cheryl beamed. “Awesome!” She glanced the way her mother had gone, and then back to Josie. “I should probably...”  
_  
  
 _Josie nodded. “Sure.”  
_  
  
 _Cheryl turned to leave, and then turned back. “Thank-you, Josie.” She said, with a grateful little smile. Then she walked off towards the clothing store.  
_  
  
 _“Josie!” Her mom called from behind her, and she whipped around. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find you – I thought you were going to the car, and then you weren’t there, and I didn’t –“  
_  
  
 _She didn’t even seem mad. Josie was overwhelmingly glad not to be fighting with her anymore, so she ran to hug her, which her mom returned warmly.  
_  
  
 _“I just want the best for you, Jose.” She said, when they let go. “But if you’re not having any fun – I think maybe this thing would be good for you. I’m ok with you going.”  
_  
  
 _Josie beamed.  
_  
  
And then high school had started, and they each had their own friend groups, and being opposing types of ‘cool girls’ should have made them – in some ways, diametric opposites – hate each other. But they stayed friends, somehow. Until senior year, when so much had already changed in their lives, and again, everything changed.  
  
  
***  
  
Archie reaches the painted door with the ornamental number four, and knocks.  
  
  
Josie opens the door, looking worried, but her face breaks into a smile when she sees him.  
  
  
They hug tightly.  
  
  
“Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever!” He half-jokes, because while they’ve texted they haven’t seen each other in person since he was dropped off at his old house, and it feels weird.  
  
  
“I know right?” She agrees. “I mean, we haven’t spent over twenty-four hours apart for a long time, so...”  
  
  
He doesn’t know why this is surprising to him, but it is a stark reminder of how insular they are at home. “Yeah, not since two years ago, I guess.” He says, not sure why he’s bringing it up. She definitely remembers how lonely the two preceding them had been.  
  
  
“Yeah,” She agrees, a little subdued. “So, this is my lovely room. All this could’ve been yours.” She jokes as she shows him in, waving vaguely at the old-fashioned decorations.  
  
  
“Oh no! I mean, there’s a new double bed for guests in my old room. So you’re really missing out on the luxury.” He jokes.  
  
  
She laughs. “Is it weird being in your old room? I can’t imagine my Mom hasn’t turned my room into a home gym or something by now. As she should.” She says, sitting down in one of the old-fashioned lounge chairs on the other side of the room. He drops into the other.  
  
  
“It is weird – but also not. It’s so familiar sometimes, I forget I can’t send Betty messages from my window because she doesn’t live next door anymore.” He laughs. “Also, because we’re adults.”  
  
  
Josie laughs. “You two were like a Taylor Swift song that went wrong.” She teases.  
  
  
“I was gonna protest that but I really can’t, oh my God.” He laughs. “Maybe it would have been easier on all of us if I’d been in love with her too.”  
  
  
He shouldn’t say things like this, because it’s pointless to speculate, but he sometimes can’t help wondering if he could have saved himself a lot of pain earlier if he could have just returned her fifteen-year-old crush on him, and maybe he –  
  
  
“Stop it, Archibald,” Josie orders him sternly. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s bullshit. No point in thinking like that.” She gives him a meaningful look.  
  
  
“I know. Sorry.” He says, honestly. They’ve had this conversation many times, and one of them has to be in charge of reminding the other that they can’t change the things that have happened to them.  
  
  
“Speaking of then, what have you been up to?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
  
He considers the last day or so, and decides to work up to it.  
  
  
“Well I ran into Kevin, literally, the other day.” He goes with this, because it’s easy and neither of them have any Complicated Emotions regarding him. “He spilt his coffees on me.” He laughs lightly, but sees her narrow her eyes minutely. She can read him too easy.  
  
  
“What happened? Were you jogging, or did you just decide on collision as a fun way to reintroduce yourself?” She asks carefully.  
  
  
He sighs. “Ah, shit...I kind of – I was having a bit of a freak out. I swear, it wasn’t intentional but I ended up near Charlotte Street...” He looks at her again, waiting for her reaction.  
  
  
Her eyes flash with anger for a second. They always do when they talk about it – at first it took him a while to realise it wasn’t him she was so angry with. Then her expression becomes softer.  
  
  
“Look, if this is too much, being here, we can leave tomorrow. Screw anything else.” She replies, with a fiery glint in her eye still.  
  
  
He shakes his head. He can read her too, and knows as much as she means this for him, she has another reason she hasn’t told him. “So, when did you see her?”  
  
  
She sighs. “We clearly do spend too much time with each other.” He grins at this, and waits for her to continue. “She came to ask my mom about something before we went out for lunch. Hasn’t changed. You know the first thing she said to me was, _so glad you could come!_ like I’m someone that gave her an early RSVP or something, I swear to _God_...” She bursts out.  
  
  
He nods empathetically. “She asked me about you.” Josie’s expression darkens, and he hastily adds, “She works with Kevin, and he didn’t tell me till I was there, so I was totally surprised.”  
  
  
“What did she say?” Josie asks quickly.  
  
  
“She just wanted to know if you’d come with me, and I guess she really knows now.” He replies, putting his hands up.  
  
  
“She really does.” Josie backs off, looking disgruntled. “What about you?” She gives him a look.  
  
  
He knew she knew. “How did you even know I saw– ”  
  
  
She grins evilly. “Well, I knew you were hiding news. Process of elimination. How did it go?”  
  
  
How did it go? How had it felt to see someone he’d spent his nearly his entire childhood with, yet hadn’t seen or spoken to in ten years? How did it feel to realise he’d grown up too, and looked like an adult now, looked good if a little different – and yet Archie would have recognised his face anywhere, had thought he’d seen it in crowds several times over the years?  
  
  
“Oh, great.” He said, sarcastically. “It was a very comfortable and not-weird moment for both of us, what with me leaving that new coffee place exactly when he was about to go in.”  
  
  
She puts her hand on his. “Aw buddy. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought?”  
  
  
He shakes his head, appreciating her trying to protect him. “No, it was definitely weird...And I did something stupid.”  
  
  
Josie narrows her eyes again. “If only I didn’t hear _that one_ so much. What did you do?”  
  
  
He cringes. “I invited him to Pop’s tonight to catch up.”  
  
  
“Wow, you’re just a sucker for punishment aren’t you?” She drawls, smiling.  
  
  
He chuckles, still feeling anxious. “I just panicked. I don’t even – What the fuck am I doing, Jose? He doesn’t wanna talk to me.”  
  
  
She squeezes his hand a little. “He did agree to it though. I guess you gotta ask if you wanna know. ”  
  
  
He remembers something and looks at her directly. “Hermione told me Veronica’s staying here, have you seen her?”  
  
  
Josie smiles, unexpectedly. “Yeah, actually. Apparently enough alcohol and you can mend a friendship after this long, who knew?”  
  
  
He smiles, surprised. “That’s great, Jose! Hopefully it means we can get on with each other while we do this ‘family dinner’ thing our parents are so set on.”  
  
  
Josie shakes her head. “It is still weird that you’re ‘family’. At least they don’t make you refer to each other as ‘sister’ and ‘brother’.”  
  
  
He shudders. “It’s not so bad. I like her mom – she makes Dad happy. But even they probably know that would be wrong.”  
  
  
Josie laughs suddenly. “Oh, and she told me she got _six months_ notice!”  
  
  
“You are _fucking kidding_ me! What do they think we do?” He says, laughing.  
  
  
*  
  
He’s sitting around talking with Josie, when there’s a knock at the door.  
  
  
He looks at her and she shrugs. “Mrs Baker? Veronica?” She guesses, looking confused. “You get it.”  
  
  
He swats at her but gets up to answer the door, which opens to reveal the other former best friend he hasn’t spoken to in years.  
  
  
It’s all happening to him today. _Joy.  
_  
  
Betty is just as blonde, and just as a pretty as he remembers. She’s begun to take more after her mother, worringly, but there’s still an essential kindness to her features that is nowhere to be seen on her mother’s face. He can’t help but feel happy to see her, but he realises a few moments after he opens the door that she is not about to say the same.  
  
  
“Betty! How did you...how did you know I was here?” He asks, confused and apprehensive.  
  
  
“I asked your Dad. Hi, Josie.” She says matter-of-factly. Josie waves from her chair.  
  
  
“Oh...do you, uh, want to come in?” He asks, still wondering what exactly she’s doing here. She was looking for him, and it doesn’t seem to be so they can have a light catch-up.  
  
  
“Can I talk to you privately for a minute, Arch?” She asks, polite but serious.  
  
  
“Uh yeah, totally.” He says, and turns to grab his jacket, sharing a glance with Josie as he does. Her looks says, _good luck._ His says, _i’m gonna need it.  
_  
  
He follows her out, and into a sort of courtyard at the back. He hasn’t seen Veronica around yet, and is hoping she’s out at this particular moment.  
  
  
Betty turns to him. “I’m sorry if I came off as a bit harsh just then, but I didn’t even really expect you’d come, and then you’re here early and you’re making plans, and I’m worried-“  
  
  
Of course, that’s what she’s here about. He almost wishes she was here to yell at him for herself, at least that would be acknowledging their own past.  
  
  
“You’re here about Jug, then?”He interrupts the flow of words. “What are you _worried_ about?”  
  
  
She gives him a look. It’s so familiar he feels like he’s just refused to go further into the woods behind their houses with her. “You know what, ok. I’m worried you’re gonna stir him up again, and then you’ll be gone by Monday, who knows when we’ll see you again.”  
  
  
That hurts, but he hides it. Something he never used to be able to do with her, but you can’t come into a meeting without a poker face when dealing with music executives. “So I should come to town, and deliberately ignore him? That won’t hurt him at all?” He replies, a little facetiously, but he means it.  
  
  
Her expression darkens. “I was here when you left, in case you’ve forgotten. You wanna talk hurt? He was devastated, Archie! Not sleeping, barely eating! And I’d do anything to not see him return to that place.”  
  
  
He wants to defend himself, to explain what happened, to tell his side but he can’t speak. If he’d thought coming back was awkward and hard before, it was nothing compared to this.  
  
  
“I – I don’t – I just – “ He tries but he can’t get a sentence out. It doesn’t feel like a full-blown panic attack, but it feels pretty bad.  
  
  
Suddenly, as he looks at her, Betty’s angry expression turns as her eyes begin to fill with tears. He’s not proud of it, but he’s made a few girls cry over the years. It never made him feel like a great person, but she evokes a whole other level of guilt, like he’s kicked a puppy. He’s suddenly fifteen again, and thinking things are OK and then they’re just suddenly not and he feels like the worst friend in the world.  
  
  
He braces his arms on his thighs, and doubles up, regulating his breathing,  
  
  
He straightens up, feeling calmer, but like he might still cry, too.  
  
  
“I’m – sorry.” He says simply. “I know it’s not enough, but I came here to see you guys, because I fucked it all up, and I’m just so _fucking sorry – “_ He swallows. _Keep it together, idiot.  
_  
  
It’s too late though, his eyes feel hot.  
  
  
“You just left! Didn’t we deserve a goodbye, at the very goddamn least? Didn’t _I?”_ She berates him, tears running down her cheeks.  
  
  
He runs a hand through his hair. His throat feels constricted. “I should’ve said goodbye to you – I called, but you didn’t pick up, and I had to leave that night. I made a stupid decision, and I’ve wished ever since that I didn’t leave that way – it was complicated, I – couldn’t, I’m sorry – ” He is crying now, but he doesn’t care because she’s seen it before, and he’s sorry for every stupid way he hurt her now and before.  
  
  
“I told you before, I’m selfish – I’m stupid – I didn’t ever deserve to be your friend, Betty.“ He continues, berating himself now.  
  
  
Her expression clouds with anger, and she unexpectedly throws her arms him. “Don’t _say_ that about yourself.” She says quietly.  
  
  
He buries his face in her shoulder. When they break apart, both their eyes are redder, but he feels a little lighter.  
  
  
“I never thought you were those things – not really, maybe at my angriest it passed my mind. I just missed my best friend.” She sniffles, smiling sadly at him.  
  
  
“I missed you too. I shouldn’t have left it so long to contact you the first time, but it was so easy to be busy then.”  
  
  
She nods slowly. “Maybe I should have tried to keep communication up too. I was the one who stopped first.”  
  
  
He shrugs. “Whoever stopped first, I guess it was both of us. I am really sorry I hurt you – I never meant to...either of you.”  
  
  
She looks at him seriously, but softer than earlier. “I can’t control what you do. I hope you and him have a good catch-up, just – be careful, ok?”  
  
  
He nods sombrely. “I’ll try my best.”  
  
  
She smiles at him. “Then maybe Saturday won’t be as much of a nightmare as I feared.” She says, half- jokingly.  
  
  
He half-smiles. “I think Veronica’s coming, as I’m sure you know.”  
  
  
Her smile sinks. “Oh, I know. This week is abundant with emotionally fraught reunions.”  
  
  
“You’re telling me.”  
  
  
*  
  
When he gets back to Josie’s room, Josie raises her eyebrows at him. “You alright?”  
  
  
He nods. “I think so.”  
  
  
“So, family dinner tonight – you ready?”  
  
  
“Oh _fuck_ , I totally forgot about that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lack of internet probably means i'll have a lot of time to write, so yay! :)


	6. Of The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this has taken a while, i've been on easter holidays from my course and I've been seeing family so I didn't have a lot of time to write :) but in return, this is maybe the longest chapter yet, so there you go, hope you like it!

** Chapter Six – Of The Night **

 

_Every stumble and each misfire, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more –_ **Good Grief, Bastille**

Sitting in the living room, with a beer in hand, Archie is struck by how different it all is. Of course it looks the same on the surface, but there are new pictures, there are flowers where there didn’t used to be – it’s not bad, it’s just different.

 

Something like twenty years earlier, his mom had this old and probably antique lamp in the corner, with this big, dark green lampshade – it’s all he can specifically remember of her decorations in here, everytime he tries to remember anything else it’s like a blurred photograph. He used to think there was no way he could forget those little details, or what it had been like when his parents had been together; but all it is now is a distant sensation, a vague memory of car trips and family dinners together. It’s better like that, maybe, than remembering everything that was until it wasn’t.

 

Now, he’s sitting here – having a beer with his dad, who is nodding along to the record he’d put on. The sound system had been a fiftieth birthday gift from him, and it makes him smile to see his dad enjoying it so much.

 

When though had he gotten old enough to be sitting in this room, where he used to watch horror movies he claimed he was old enough to watch when he really wasn’t (and so then got nightmares from)-  having a drink with his dad because he now really was old enough that it wasn’t a big deal?

 

Another difference is his dad in a button-up shirt, when his eternal mental picture of him will always be wearing an old flannel shirt, but apparently tonight meant a slightly fancier standard of dress.

 

“...Yeah, Hermione’s really excited about this one. She’s been testing the recipe out since she knew you guys were gonna be in town.” His dad is saying, a proud grin on his face.

 

“Wow, I didn’t think she was so into cooking.” He replies honestly. It’s probably unfair but he sometimes still thinks of her as woman who never needed too, and so has been recently surprised by how good her food is – they usually have gone to restaurants in the past when they’ve met up because why not, when you’re touring in Italy or somewhere and you can afford to fly them out to meet you.

 

“Yeah, she’s got a real knack for it. Not that I never do any myself, but I don’t mind saying she’s the one making the more interesting meals.” His dad says fondly.

 

He laughs. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

His dad nods, smiling, then looks at him. “I really appreciate you doing this, you know?”

 

“Yeah, of course. I wasn’t going to tell you I was busy, or something.” He replies, smiling but surprised by this; was it not certain that he’d come to one dinner? How much of a celebrity asshole did people think he was? (That question, he had learned, was never a good idea to try and find out)

 

His dad nods in agreement. “I know, I just mean I know I don’t know exactly why – but things are difficult between you and Veronica, and it means a lot to us that you’ve agreed to make nice for tonight.” He says carefully, looking at Archie.

 

He can’t quite overcome the impulse to scoff – a media trained one over years to scoff at any rumour of tension of any kind is hard to break – but he tries to, and it comes out as a half-scoff. “It’s not – we don’t need to ‘make nice’, Dad.” He says, feeling like that sounded uncomfortably teenager-ish.

 

His dad gives him his patented squinty, sceptical look, the one that says “I-know-you-well-enough-to-know-you’re-not-telling-the-truth”, and it’s uncanny how much it makes him feel like he’s been caught sneaking back into the house late again.

 

He tries again. “I know we don’t often do this, and maybe it’s... I can’t say that we’re close friends currently, but I don’t think either of us, like, hate the other. It’s complicated.”

 

His dad looks a little sad about this. “It’s just a shame. She was a good friend to you – and you to her, bringing her into your friends when she didn’t have any. I’m sure it meant a lot to her.”

 

He feels annoyed for some reason – parents have this way sometimes, not cruelly, but of taking your regrets, or fears, and spelling out exactly what you’re trying not to think about it, assuming that they’re being sympathetic. “Yeah, a lot has happened I wish was different. Can’t change the past.”  He replies, regretting his words almost immediately.

 

His dad doesn’t leap on them though, to his relief. “Maybe, but you can decide what happens now. The future’s not written yet.” He says, sagely.

 

He looks at his dad, wanting to reply, when they hear a knock at the door.

 

“Can you get it, Fred?” Hermione’s voice carries from the kitchen. His dad puts his drink down, and goes to get the door.

 

Archie hears him say, kindly “Veronica, great to see you! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

 

Then he hears her familiar voice laugh, genuinely, and say, “And you, Fred! I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to see you two sooner! Hope I’m not late? And I’m touched – that shirt looks great!”

 

His dad laughs.

 

 “I knew it would. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to the party but you know how it is; Mom tells me it was _major_...”

 

They sound so familiar with each other he wonders how much he’s missed while avoiding family functions together. She hadn’t exactly been their biggest fan originally – the word ‘Judas’ was thrown around, memorably, at his support of it (in hindsight, he could have been a little more sensitive, given her dad, but that wasn’t even top ten on his list of Idiot Teenage Boy Insensitivities) – but apparently they were quite friendly now.

 

They walk into the living room together, and he can see some apprehension in his dad’s eyes under his smile.

 

Veronica always looked like she’d totally skipped any awkward phase, from the first time he saw her – although her adult beauty wasn’t so surprising to him, when they’d seen each other a few times over the years when their careers intersected. She’d moved from Los Angeles a few years back, though. She was wearing another black, hooded cape, reminding him again of their first meeting. He guesses she hadn’t lost her flair for the dramatic, then.

 

“Here she is!” His dad says jovially.

 

She smiles politely at him, and he gets up to greet her. She makes it easier by stretching her arms out for a hug, which he gives. It’s slightly awkward, but she’s definitely a good enough actress to make it seem natural – like they haven’t seen each other in weeks, instead of years.

 

His dad seems satisfied with it. He beams at them. “It’s so good to see you both here. I had almost given up hope, what with all the touring and filming being at different times.”

 

Veronica laughs, bubbly. It sounds genuine, but she is still a great actress. They wouldn’t know, really, if it wasn’t. “I wouldn’t have missed it, Fred.”

 

“Definitely,” He adds.

 

“I can get you a drink, if you want, there’s wine, beer, water...” His dad says to Veronica.

 

“I’d love a glass of your red, if you have it.” Veronica replies genially. His dad smiles, and goes off to fetch it.

 

Then it’s just them, in his old living room.

They stand in silence for an awkward moment.

 

“How are-“ He says at the same time as she begins to say “It’s good-“

 

She laughs. “This is ridiculous.”

 

He nods in vigorous agreement, already feeling a little less awkward.”I know. I mean, we know how to talk to each other, right?” He asks, half-smiling.

 

“Exactly!” She agrees, then says in a lower voice. “I ran into your bestie at the B&B the other night, and it’s been pointed out to me that maybe I am not entirely innocent of creating the distance between us...” She says with a half-sheepish grin.

 

He shakes his head. “We both let things get out of hand. Honestly, I – I didn’t think you’d talk to me, especially like this, if you decided to come.”

 

She smiles at him, but her eyes are a little sad. “Life is too short to hold unnecessary grudges against friends, _Archiekins._ ” She smirks on the last word, familiarly.

 

He grins at the old nickname, and it feels like they are teenagers again for a moment. It was always a ridiculous nickname, and he would have been embarrassed to hear it from anyone else, but somehow whenever she had said it he felt the warmth of it.

 

“Josie told me she saw you. I’m glad you guys are talking again. It’s...good, I think, for us to have those other friendships. Hard to keep up back home.” He says, quietly.

 

She makes a face. “ _Tell me_ about it. There are so many people I talk to on a daily basis, who I see all the time, but I don’t even know if I could count on them if I was in an emergency? It’s all a fucking circus.” She shakes her head.

 

“Exactly – we have these people around us who are happy to go out, have fun, but we can only really trust each other. It’s a bit – alienating, sometimes.” He replies. He forgot she had this quality – making you feel like you were already friends, even when you’d never met before. Making you feel comfortable after years of silence.

 

She regards him, smiling. “You know, I would have never guessed that would be you and Josie in the future.” He raises an eyebrow. “Y’know, friends like you are…But I’m glad you have each other. I don’t even really have a best friend like that...I mean, I have Jack, who is...Jack.”

 

“Yeah I wouldn’t have guessed either. But I’m glad, too.” He frowns, slightly. “I meant to ask, how are you? Last I heard, you were dating that guy who was in _Steal_ with you? Is that him?”

 

She smiles, but it’s a little strained. “Engaged, actually. Three months ago.”

 

He raises his eyebrows, surprised. _Engaged._

 

“Wow, that’s amazing. So he’s a good guy?” He says, hoping it’s the right thing to say. Marriages, especially in their circles, are mostly ‘start-quick-end-quicker’ things. It feels like obvious bullshittery to say ‘Here’s to your long life together’.

 

She looks at him funny. “Sure. I mean, enough-“  


He gives her a slightly-doubtful look. Come to think of it, he h _ad_ heard rumours about this guy. _Jack Warner._ Hot as hell, good actor, reputation for various short-lived relationships with female co-stars and models. Didn’t ever strike him as the type to marry, though. Not that he could talk, but at least he wasn’t proposing to anyone. Out of a long list of mistakes, he’d managed to avoid _that_ one.

 

She narrows her eyes slightly, as if she’s reading his mind. “Who of us can honestly say we’re _fully ‘_ good’ though? Can you?” She continues, defensively.

 

He shakes his head. “No,” He smiles, apologetically. “Honestly, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I didn’t mean to—“ He trails off, unsure of what to say next.

 

She smiles, warm and familiar. “No, it’s ok. I – am. I’m happy. I think I’ll enjoy being married, you know.”

 

He recognises that look, that phrase. _It’s not a big deal_ comes to mind, but he doesn’t press the issue.

 

“It’s nice to know you’re still looking out for me, though.” She continues.

 

He can’t help but smile wider. “Of course. We’re family now. And I’d like it if we were friends, again.”

 

“I would like that, too.” She replies, then narrows her eyes in confusion for a moment. “Your dad’s been gone a while with the drinks, huh?”

 

He chuckles. Subtlety wasn’t the male Andrews’ strongsuit. “I think he wanted to give us a little time to catch up. That or there’s been a horrifying cooking accident and your mother is waiting to tell us.”

 

She laughs. “That was funny! I always assumed that you were just too beautiful to have had to develop a sense of humour.” She says, but he can tell she’s teasing.

 

“And yet, somehow you got there. It’s a miracle.” He replies, grinning.

 

***

 

Josie watches the clock ticking on the wall of the take-out Korean chicken place. It says it’s 7:31, but it feels like it’s going slower than normal, like time is moving differently in this store. When did this town even catch up with the trends of even ten years ago? Who brought the diverse takeaway places and actual coffee-machine coffee places?

 

Not that she is complaining.

 

It just feels weird. Like she was somewhere so familiar and yet she didn’t recognise the place she was standing in at all. What had been there before?

 

As she wondered about this, her gaze fixes on a woman who walks up to the counter to order. A woman with long, curly black hair, dark skin and glasses.

 

_Figures._

Josie wonders for a split-second whether she should leave without her order. She doesn’t have much longer to consider it, as Mel turns around and sees her.

 

She looks at her, almost disbelieving.

 

“Josie? You are…the last person I expected to run into in here.” She asks wryly, like she’s not sure.

 

“I had a need for take-out, and I found this…new place.” Josie replies, awkwardly.

 

Mel smiles a wry smile. “I know, right? When did they decide they wanted a one of these here? Not that I’m complaining. I’m addicted to this one near my apartment.”

 

“Yeah, me too, there’s one in L.A I’m always ordering in from.” Josie says, half-smiling. She’s not sure if Mel’s even happy to see her, really, so she’s not sure how much she can give out.  “I didn’t recognise you in glasses.”

 

Mel snickers. “Yeah, apparently long days staring at screens turn your reading glasses into your everyday glasses, who knew?” She says sardonically.

 

Josie nods, keeping her eyes on her. They lapse into awkward silence.

 

What else are you supposed to say? There are people here she doesn’t regret leaving, or at least she wasn’t the only one in the wrong. But Melody isn’t one of them. The fact they both know whose fault it was hangs over Josie, growing heavier every second of silence.

 

Mel’s wearing a bomber jacket with a blue patch on the breast pocket. Josie decides she might as well ask about it. It’s better than silence.

 

“You look really good, Mel. I like your jacket, it’s cool.” She ventures, with a small smile.

 

Mel smiles, still looking suspicious, but also flattered. 

 

“Uh, yeah, thanks. They gave them to us at work. Team present, thing.” She says, looking a little proud.

 

Josie realises now that the blue and white patch is the NASA logo, and her jaw drops. “Oh my god, yeah I heard you were doing something cool and scientific in Houston – but NASA, wow, that’s so _fucking cool_ Mel!” She can’t help saying this in excitement, then wonders if she’s gone too far. Is she just making this uncomfortable, acting like they’re friends, like she’s hearing that Mel won the ninth-grade science fair again?

 

Mel smiles, more this time, more happy than suspicious looking now for the first time since they started this conversation.

 

 “Thanks, Josie! I – I appreciate it. Really.” She says, adding in a dryer tone, “I mean, it’s not like winning Album of The Year Grammys, or going on World Tours or anything, but the work is pretty cool.”

 

Josie grins. “I don’t know, you’ve got a legit government job. I know I worked hard to get to where I am, but sounds like you did too… I’m so proud. Is it ok for me to say that?”

 

Mel nods slowly. “Sure, of course.”

 

There’s a silence, but it’s less awkward.

 

Josie wonders what she can even say. Mel doesn’t seem angry, but they’ve been having a conversation in a public takeout place. Mostly empty, still.

 

She deserves an apology at the very least.

 

“Mel, I’m-“ She begins, but Mel interrupts her.

 

“Josie, I know what you’re about to say,” She says, not breaking eye contact.

 

“I wanted to say this maybe when I saw you on Friday,” Josie’s heart misses a beat from a jolt of fear. This is it. Why did she come? This was a stupid idea.   
Damn Archie and his harebrained plans.

 

“And I never imagined I’d be saying this to you in a Korean takeout place, but I guess this what’s happening.” Mel continues, looking serious.

 

Josie feels like she might throw up.

 

_If you can keep from puking on the Queen of Pop, you can keep from puking on one of your oldest friends._

Mel sighs. “I’m not – mad at you. For taking that contract on, for going to L.A.”

 

Josie stops feeling anxious for a moment to be hit full-force by confusion.

 

“What? I mean, I…abandoned you guys. You were pretty upset, if I remember. _Rightly so._ ” She says, completely dumbfounded.

 

Mel nods. “It’s also been like, a decade. I never wanted to do music, like, professionally like you did – it was what you’d always wanted.”

 

“Yes, but leaving you like that - you were my friends, that was…shitty of me.” She protests.

 

Mel smiles, unexpectedly. “Look, it happened. You can’t change it. And, yeah it wasn’t great exactly how it all went down – but I get it. If someone here had been going for my full-ride scholarship to MIT, maybe I would have had to do things I wasn’t proud of to get it. I had my ambitions, same as you. So – I forgive you, ok?”

 

Josie can’t speak. There’s a lump rising in her throat, and she’s really hoping she’s not about to cry in this neon-lit chicken shop, but it might not be a controllable action.

  

“If it would make you feel better, we can hug?” Mel says, smiling kindly.

 

Josie nods, still not able to speak, and Mel hugs her.

 

For the second time this week, Josie is actually glad she’s not home. She wouldn’t be able to have such a private and emotional conversation in say, the In-N-Out on Sepulveda, without people taking photos of her hugging some unknown woman. Not that she’d actually regularly been able to go into a fast food place for the past few years, but that was beside the point.

 

When they stop hugging, Mel’s eyes look a little mistier but she’s still smiling.

 

“So, I’m guessing you’re here for the reunion, then?” Mel asks.

 

Josie sighs. “That was the general plan. We had this ridiculous idea that if we came early we could, maybe see our parents and ease ourselves into it, but I don’t know…”

 

Mel smirks a little. “Well, silver lining, if you’d just rolled up on Saturday, this could never have happened. Everyone has to have an emotional moment in a takeout place at least once. I personally have had many an emotional moment in the Chinese takeout place near my work. They get out the tissue box when they see me come in now.”

 

Josie giggles at this, feeling a little brighter now. “Busy workload?”

 

Mel rolls her eyes. “You have no idea – well maybe you do when you’re organising a tour or whatever – but really, I shouldn’t even be taking this time off but Val wanted me to come –“ She cuts herself off, looking awkward.

 

“It’s ok…I guess I’ll see her on Saturday, then.” Josie says quickly. Somehow she doesn’t think it will go so well twice, but she can hope.

 

Mel nods. “Can I tell her you’re back?”

 

“Sure…I mean, it’s not, y’know, a secret.” Josie replies, caught off guard by the question.

 

“Order #87, up!” Josie hears her number called, having momentarily forgot what she was even doing here.

 

“Ah damn, that’s me.” Josie says. “I would really like it if we could catch up more, though?”

 

“I’m not doing anything, I just got into town tonight, if you wanna hang out?” Mel replies.

 

Josie beams, surprised. “Sure. I’m staying at the B&B, I was just gonna go back there with this.”

 

“Modern. I’m in!” Mel deadpans, then smirks.

 

Mel and her walk up to the counter and grab the bag.

 

“So, what’s the deal with Andrews? That was a professional partnership I really didn’t see coming, to be honest.”

 

Josie laughs. “I know. He’s actually not as bad as you think, though…”

 

***

 

“We’re in this ninety-eight degree heat, and our jeep’s aircon is just _not keeping up_ , and we’re all just dying to get back to the hotel but we can’t cause of the mud, and _of course_ we’re alone on the road so we all had to get out and try and push the car out of the mud –“

 

Everyone is laughing, a little easier because of the wine they’ve been having with dinner. “Even Blake?” Hermione asks Veronica, incredulously.

 

“She was leading the charge, telling us all when to push! But then we _finally_ get out of the mud and we think, it’s gotta be fine from here, right?”

 

“There isn’t more!” Archie adds, laughing in disbelief.

 

Veronica grins. “Oh if only! So we get about less than a mile down the road, and one of our tires pops-“

 

“No!” Fred exclaims. Hermione laughs.

 

“What did you do?” Archie asks, invested.

 

Veronica shakes her head, laughing. “So we get out and we’re looking at it, just sweating _so grossly_ , and it turns out no-one knows what to do, and we have no internet signal on our phones…”

 

Everyone at the table is almost crying with laughter. Veronica was always good at being the life of the party, he remembers that well, and her stories have only gotten better with adulthood.

 

“…So I say, ‘Leo, I’m glad you learnt to be a hunter for The Revenant, I’m thrilled you got that Oscar, but I can’t believe you’ve never had a method role that required you to change a tire!”

 

Everyone laughs.

 

“Did you end up just hating each other by the end of it? I’ve known people who would’ve lost their shit if they’d had to do that, oh my god.” Archie asks. Actors were not generally fun people to be around when things went wrong, in his personal experience.

 

 Veronica shakes her head, smirking. “I mean, tempers get a little frayed but it was a bonding experience.”

 

“Yeah, I’m not sure…maybe six years ago? Josie and I got stranded in this little Eastern European town – I can’t even remember the name, but it was in, like, Hungary, and we got separated from our people – somehow they thought we on the bus, and so we’re stranded in a part of the world where we don’t speak the language and there aren’t exactly cabs for the few hundred people who live there.” Archie says, to the incredulous looks of everyone.

 

“Did you call them and tell them they’d forgotten the main attraction?” Veronica asks, sounding almost offended on their behaviour.

 

He laughs. “It was the first thing we did, but reception was terrible in that village. We couldn’t even connect to the internet – but somehow we get on to this bus that’s coming through, and we proceded to spend _seven hours_ on a bus packed full of Australian, New Zealander and British backpackers, and the people that recognised us were all ‘ _that’s a bloody disaster, mate’_ -“ At this he attempts a terrible accent somewhere between the three, and Veronica cringes but she laughs along with the others.  

 

“So it was a bonding experience, then?” Hermione asks, grinning.

 

He shakes his head. “I mean, maybe in that Josie and I both equally hated our team for making us get this bus to where they were. We knew our next stop was in Vienna, so we found them eventually.”

 

Fred wipes his eyes, chuckling. “Well at least you weren’t alone. I meant to say you could’ve brought Josie over tonight too, if she wanted. We’d love to see her again.”

 

Archie wonders for the first time what Josie’s doing tonight – she had said she was probably going to get some takeout and watch a movie, but he knows she wouldn’t want him to tell everyone that.

 

“Yeah, she would have loved to come, but I think she’s catching up with her Mom tonight.” He says instead – it’s close enough to the truth, anyway.

 

Fred nods. “Of course. She’s always welcome here though. I’m glad she’s there for you, if she wasn’t, I wonder what else you’d get up to, you’re so far away …” He trails off, still smiling, but seeming to realise he’s said something wrong. Hermione gives him a warning look.

 

His smile feels like it’s fading. There is the reason they don’t see their parents more often – is it guilt? Shame? The knowledge that they’re aware of every past fuck-up and one might slip out over a meal with company?

 

He knows everyone is waiting for him to say something, if only because the light mood around the table is being dragged into an awkward silence, but he doesn’t know how. Maybe he’s overreacting? Josie once told him he had a problem with that, and he’s been working on it. But it’s kind of humiliating, even unintentionally, the way it sounds like Josie is his _minder_ or something. Is that really who they think he is? Some wild, likely to freak out, rockstar type?

 

Or maybe he doesn’t know what to say, because he’s afraid his dad could be right. He’d had his share of bad times, times he was out of control, a lot when he wasn’t talking to Josie. It was one small comment, but it felt like, a reference to all of that, for everyone at the table. _Look at my son, he’d probably crash his sports car again, if his friend wasn’t there to look after him._

He goes to reply, but Veronica gets there first. “I mean, Fred, I think he helps her too. I think it’s awesome that you guys can look out for each other like that.” She says smoothly, smiling at him.

 

Fred looks relieved too. “Of course, I didn’t mean – It’s a big city, I’m just glad you have at least one person you can trust there.” He tells Archie, a silent apology in his eyes. He’s not going to embarrass them both by saying it in front of everyone.

 

Archie nods, maybe too quickly, but it’s not like anyone is going to point it out. “No, totally. It’s a tough industry, if you don’t have that.” He replies, hoping he sounds unaffected.

 

“I’m sure Veronica knows what you mean,” Hermione adds, kindly, with a look to her daughter.

 

“Oh sure. The sharks I’ve had to deal with, I could tell you…” Veronica leads in, with a brief reassuring look at him.

 

He hadn’t really realised how much he’d missed her friendship until now.

 

***

 

He walks to the diner, after excusing himself from dinner. His dad offered him a lift, but it felt too much like it could have been a night when he was fourteen – getting dropped off by his dad to meet his best friend at the diner.

 

There is already a chill in the air, and it’s only the start of November, but the cold always started early here.

 

He is again struck by how much Pop’s hasn’t changed. He sometimes imagines it hasn’t changed at all since it was built in the mid-50s, but that’s probably not true. But the coloured neon is the same, and the vinyl booths inside look the same. He wonders if the old jukebox inside still exists, and if Pop still somehow keeps it updated.

 

How old is Pop himself now? Is he still serving?

 

He enters through the glass front door, wondering if this was really a good idea. But so far, there haven’t been any mobs of fans waiting for him at the corner store, so he’s hoping his luck holds.

 

Before he can even take a look around, he hears someone say his name, and he almost jumps.

 

Pop is still behind the counter, a little greyer, a few more wrinkles on his face, but currently beaming.

 

“As I live and breathe! I haven’t seen you in an age, where you get to?” Pop says cheerily.

 

He wonders how to respond. _“Don’t you know who I am?”_ is a douchey response in any situation, but is it bad that he’s surprised Pop has no idea what he’s been up to for ten years? Then again, he is probably 65 at this point. He's just guessing, though, because he has no idea how long Pop's been working here.

 

Pop chuckles, eyes crinkling. “I’m just pulling your leg, Archibald. Even old Pop’s heard of you and young Josie’s music. And I say, they used to eat here all the time! Of course, all of you kids did but people love to think a famous person sat where they were sitting, doing the same ordinary things, being a kid a long time ago.”

 

Archie breaks into a grin. Pop can tend to go on, but he was always a friendly presence in the diner, always knowing those who had less and quietly allowing them to pay later.

 

“Yeah, I just never thought any one would care enough about _my_ past. Anyway, it’s great to see you but I’m catching up with someone…” He begins.

 

Pop smiles, and nods over his shoulder. “Just like when you two skinny kids used to come in and convince me to give you free milkshakes.” He chuckles. “You betta get on then.”

 

He smiles and looks around.

 

For a moment he sees something in one of the booths so vividly he thinks it’s real. A skinny teenager, in a denim jacket and a grey beanie, typing away at a 2014-era MacBook.

 

He blinks and sees in the booth behind it, no longer a boy but very real – Jughead Jones, without the beanie, folding his hands and looking around. 

 

As he catches Jughead’s eye there’s a moment of panic that he’s sure that they’re both experiencing – how to signal ‘hello, I’m here’ in a relaxed, cool manner and not notify the diner going public how awkward this is. Jughead nods, and it makes him smile. Small, but he can’t help being reminded of how much that wasn’t his style. The words “ _we’ll just do that bro thing where we nod like douches”_ come to mind, and then he feels less like smiling. Their fights were fixable then, even when they seemed so broken.

 

He walks over and slides into the booth on the opposite side. On the walk here he had been wondering what the hell he was doing, part of his brain yelling at him to cut and run immediately or risk making things worse. But somehow, all that noise had quietened down when he got in.

 

Now he can’t think of what to say first.

 

“So, uh, thanks for coming. I wasn’t – sure you were going to.” He says, mostly because it’s the first thing on his mind he can say to break the awkward silence.

 

“You know me, I keep my word.” Jughead replies civilly. He pauses, seemingly struggling over whether to say the next thing. “I…I wasn’t sure if you’d actually turn up. So you’re already ahead.”

 

Archie nods. “Given that I asked you, that would’ve been, uh, pretty shitty.”

 

Jughead smiles wryly but doesn’t say anything.

 

 _What do people even talk about in these situations?_ He grabs at the first thing he can think of.

 

“So, what are you up to? Are you still writing?” He says, hoping he sounds more casual than he feels.

 

Jughead seems surprised, almost. “Yeah, I’m at the Chronicle with Betty. Apparently investigative journalism is ‘my thing’” He says this with such evident air quotes, and a familiar ironic smile.

 

He smiles, genuinely. “Aw man, that’s awesome. You guys were really good at that sort of thing. It’s cool that you get to work together.”

 

Jughead nods, still looking guarded. “Yeah, it is. Although it’s also like 50% writing about the local fair, or what the scouts are up to this week.”

 

“I’m sure you’d find a way to make it interesting.” He replies, honestly and Jughead half-smiles. He wonders whether to say the next thing, and then decides to go for it. “Y’know, I read your book. I really liked it.”

 

Jughead makes a face. “It wasn’t exactly the sensation I had hoped. Fair enough too, I mean even with editing, my teenage writing style was, uh, pretty melodramatic.”

 

Archie shakes his head. “No, man. I mean, maybe, but it was very, _you_.” 

 

Jughead laughs, a sardonic edge to it and looks out of the window briefly. Then he looks back.

 

“Where did you even find a copy? It wasn’t exactly something you could pick up in a bookstore while passing through Prague, or London.” He asks, with a sceptical look.

 

Archie hopes he’s not blushing. “Ok this is dumb, I guess – we were on the road in some southern state, and we were in this town where they didn’t even have a thing for tourists to come through and look at like _‘biggest elastic band ball’_ , but we needed to stop for gas. So I’m walking through the town looking for something to do, and I go into this bookstore and I’m looking around. And you know me, I’ve never been a big reader like you, so I’m not even sure what I’m doing in here.”

 

Jughead smirks, but not cruelly.

 

“So I’m just looking around, and the owner comes up to me. She’s this old, kind looking lady, and she goes “Can I help you find somethin’, darlin’?” and I just ask if she can recommend anything to me. She says to me, ‘I don’t know what you like usually, but I’m reading this book right now and I’m just so engrossed in it, I can show you a copy if you’d like?”, and I say, why not. And she comes out with a copy of your book, and I swear it was such a weird moment. I felt like, I had to buy it? I don’t know, I know you don’t believe in fate, and I’m not religious, but it was something.” He finishes the story, not even having meant it to go so long. 

 

Jughead is looking him strangely, almost disbelieving. "That is...truly weird. I mean, you in bookstore? I just can't see it." He says, breaking into a familiar smirk.

 

Archie grins. For a moment, it really does feel like they're fourteen and killing time at the diner, like always.

 

"Are you writing anything else?" He asks. "Or are you totally a journalist now?"

 

"The book opened a few doors for me to freelance with some websites, while I'm at the paper. I have a fairly regular gig reviewing movies for a pretty great online film magazine." Jughead replies, with a smile.

 

Archie's smile widens. "That's so great, Jug! I always pictured you doing something like that."

 

Jughead shrugs. "It's not a big deal, I mean especially to you..."

 

"Don't say that. It is. To me, anyway." He cuts Jughead off sincerely.

 

Jughead meets his eye and smiles in a funny way, and nods.

 

"So, uh, how is Jellybean - uh, JB? How old is she now?" He continues. He hadn't seen her since she was a kid, when she'd moved away with her mother, though he knew she had been in regular contact with Jughead. At least she had been ten years ago.

 

Jughead almost looks surprised that he asked. He smiles, a warmth he reserves for talking about the people closest to him.

 

"She's, 23, now and she's a total genius. She's doing her postgraduate psych degree now at NYU, and she was valedictorian in her undergraduate class. She's just zooming past us all," He says fondly, "Except you, I guess." He adds wryly. "Also, she works as a tattoo artist, because she also has to be creatively brilliant, too." He continues without a shred of jealousy in his voice. He's always been proud of her.

 

 Sometimes, in the past, Archie felt jealous of everyone and their siblings. He tried to choose a family - but as his other former best friend knew, that way you can't choose who is and isn't more than a sibling to you.

 

"Wow, I can't believe she's so grown up! Good on her!" He says, beaming. From what he remembered she had been a sweet kid, smarter than the average, a little too young to play with them mostly. "Does that make you feel old or what?"

 

Jughead sighs, still smiling. "I wanna say no, but...yeah, it does."

 

Archie laughs and runs a hand through his hair. "God, I would never have pictured this."

 

Jughead nods slowly. "No, me neither."

 

There is a moment of silence.

 

"And your mom and dad?" Archie continues, soberly.

 

Jughead looks away for a moment then back. "Dad finally agreed to go to AA. He's working, too, which is good. He's been sober 6 years." He says quietly.

 

Archie gives him an empathetic smile, and suddenly, privately wonders if he's becoming the rich-and-famous mirror to FP. Unnervingly, he realizes he understands a lot more about him now.

 

 "I'm glad." He says quietly. Jughead catches his eye, quietly appreciative.

 

"Mom's still in Buffalo. She has a business there, which is good. Still dating idiots, but JB and like this latest one – he’s at least nice to her even if he is pretty dumb." 

 

Archie nods. "I guess, if he makes her happy?" He add awkwardly, not sure of what else to say.

 

Jughead meets his eye and sighs. "Yeah, I just want her to be happy. Easier said than done, though."

 

"Tell me about it." Archie replies, and regrets it. Something about seeing his childhood friends again has him being way too honest.

 

Jughead picks up on it. "I would have thought it was much easier for you, now you have everything you wanted." He drawls, looking at Archie.

 

Archie bristles. "Oh _shit_ , fame and money actually do stop you from ever feeling like shit and having problems Jug, you're right!"

 

Jughead's eyes have gone colder. "Yeah, I'm sure it pays your rent though. When was the last time you worried about how much you could spend on groceries for the week?"

 

Now it feels like when they were fifteen, finding each others rough edges too much, not being able to say what they meant, not instantly understanding each other like they used to.

 

Archie sighs. "That was flippant, sorry. You're right, of course. As Josie used to say, I need to _check my privilege._ " Jughead half-smiles, like he can just see it.

 

"No, I'm sorry. That was a shitty thing to imply." Jughead relents. "You never used to apologize this quick, did L.A make you more sensitive?" He half jokes.

Archie smiles ruefully. "I would have stormed off, or you would've, and we would have waited days to talk again. Not really a luxury we have now. I'm not here to fight with people."

 

Jughead looks at him, and Archie wonders if he will ask the question hanging over them now. He doesn't. "But you are happy, right?"

 

Archie looks at him, and considers the question and lands on half-truth.

 

"I like what I'm doing. I finally feel like we're at a level where we can just make the music we want to and people aren't making too many demands on us...So that's good."

 

Jughead looks like he's considering the answer. He could always get at the truth, figure out if he was lying, looking at him. This is enough of an honest answer it can't possibly set him off.

 

"So you like living in L.A? Do you and Josie live together?" He continues, still keeping eye contact.

 

Archie smiles, runs a hand through his hair again. "We used to, but we rent separately now. Nice to have your own space, sometimes. L.A is...something else. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I think it's like, the hellmouth where all the evil is." He chuckles.

 

Jughead gives a surprised laugh. "Look at you, referencing things. Here I thought you didn't appreciate the seven season Buffy education I gave you."

 

Archie grins. "I liked it! I just didn't always keep up with the plot. I guess some things stuck."

 

"Yeah, sometimes I think this the is place with the hellmouth." Jughead says darkly.

 

"Maybe you're right." Archie says, only half-joking.

 

"Do you see your mom much?" Jughead asks carefully.

 

Archie is taken aback, even though it's pretty standard a question for a catch up.

 

"Not much, I mean we talk maybe once a year? I'm usually traveling, she's in Chicago. She's busy with her family." The last few words come out more bitterly than intended and he looks away for a moment.

 

When he looks back, Jughead is looking at him in that quiet, empathetic way of his and he knows that he gets it. "It's not a big deal." It's a familiar thought, but he can't sell it to Jughead, who had always known when something wasn't really ok with him.

 

He looks genuinely sad, somehow without being pitying. "It's ok if it is, Arch." He says simply.

 

Archie goes to say something else, but says instead, "It could be worse. Josie doesn't even talk to her Dad...And I had a choice. I could have gone with her to Chicago, maybe...I guess that's another thing that I messed up." He half-laughs weakly.

 

Jughead frowns. "I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but that's bullshit."

 

Archie looks at him, confused.

 

"That one isn't on you, Arch. It sucked that my mom moved away with my sister, but I get that she didn't feel like they - we weren't safe around my dad then. Your Dad is great, and you were thirteen, your whole life was here. Like you were going to choose to leave? It's ridiculous." He says, almost righteously angry. "I realise this might not be for me to say, now, but I just - you're still blaming yourself for that, when it's actually the one thing you shouldn't."

 

Archie doesn't know what to say. He knows he can feel a lump in his throat, and he looks out the window into the dark parking lot.

 

He can't think too much about it, it will only mess him up. She hadn't always been so distant. She'd been there once, she had been the kind of mother who drove to the supermarket with him in the passenger seat, eight years old, playing Come On Eileen loudly and teaching him the words. Then she had been the kind of mother to move to a city hours away from here, and the kind of mother whose calls got fewer and far between the older he got and the more she became entrenched in her life in the city.

 

He swallows and looks back. "Thanks, man." He says, quietly.

 

Jughead nods, a small movement, and looks back at him with such care Archie almost wants to look away. But he doesn't.

 

There is silence, but it's less uncomfortable. Just more emotionally charged.

 

Maybe to break this up, seemingly casting around for light topics to talk about, he says in a studiedly ironic voice, "I can't see them now, but when I saw you today I noticed your tattoos - tell me how a kid who hated even the flu-shot needle has so many?"

 

Archie laughs in mock indignance, a little more performatively than he means to. "That was one time!"

 

Jughead smirks. "It was like three times! I don't understand, I have to know how. Unless they're somehow all temporary?" He teases.

 

Archie winces. "Well, y'know you make one drunk mistake at nineteen, decide it's pretty cool, and the rest just sort of follow..."

 

If Jughead is judging this, he doesn't show it. He would have reason to, but it felt stupid to lie about it to him. He'd know anyway. Instead he asks, looking at Archie quizzically, "Do you regret any of them? I know my Dad regrets some of his."

 

Archie looks down at his arms, remembers he's wearing a long-sleeve shirt, and rolls his sleeves up. He finds one of the most faded ones, and holds his arm out to show to show Jughead.

 

Jughead regards it with a mixture of fascination and disbelief in his expression.

 

"That little guitar is my oldest one. Josie convinced me to do it, or rather we both got one together - the quality is terrible, I'm pretty sure the artist was drunk as well - " Jughead snickers.  " - but I never wanted to get it removed. I don't know, I guess I'd rather have all of the memories from these. Even if some of them are dumb."

 

"Did you guys join a cult in L.A? You seem more enlightened." Jughead drawls, with a laugh in his voice.

 

Archie laughs and looks up from his arm, seeing Jughead grin in front of him. They seem to realize at the same moment that they're the closest they've physically been in years, and both jerk back almost automatically. Unwilling to ruin the light mood, Archie tries to pretend it was a casual movement and is pleased to see Jughead doing the same.

 

Maybe they can keep this going, and they can just not mention what happened, ever. That's doable. Certainly.

 

***

 

They're leaving the diner, when Jughead turns to him. "How are you getting home? Did you drive?"

 

He shakes his head. "I walked. Thought I would just walk back."

 

"I can give you a lift, if you want. Unless you have a certain number of steps you have to reach, or something?" He jokes.

 

Archie laughs. "Nothing like that, so sure. Although I am missing my workout already, how does this town still not have a gym?"

 

Jughead rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, but he smiles. "This way."

  
They get to where a compact four door car, at least ten years old if not more is parked.

 

“It's a piece-of-shit car, but it goes where I need it to." Jughead says flatly.

 

Archie feels uncomfortable - from experience he knows Jughead won't take any "it's not as bad as you think" bullshit but he doesn't know how to reply. "Yeah, that's the most important thing." He replies. It's weak, but only makes him sound dumb. He's OK with that.

 

Jughead chuckles. "I suppose it does that."

 

As they pull out of the lot, Jughead asks, "Where am I dropping you? The B&B? Did they give you the Cat Room? I mean that's their fanciest suite, and you're probably the most famous person they've ever had there."

 

Archie chuckles. "No, sadly. I'm staying with my Dad."

 

Jughead looks surprised, keeping his eyes on the road. "Missed your bitchin' teenage-boy bedroom?" He says sardonically.

 

Archie grins. "As I remember you thought the tv-playstation set up in there was pretty _bitchin_ '"

 

Jughead chuckles, "Touché."

 

"No, I just wanted to be somewhere familiar. And I hadn't actually seen my Dad in like nine months. It's been nice to hang out with him." Archie continues.

 

"I often see your Dad around town. He and Hermione have me over for dinner sometimes. I think they think I'm not eating enough." Jughead says, smirking.

 

Archie chuckles. "I mean, you're still pretty skinny. I can understand the concern." He teases.

 

Jughead snorts. "It's like I don't even lift, bro. Also, maybe I just look small because you're so big now? I'm worried some of those muscles are close to gaining sentience."

 

Archie laughs."It's actually illegal in LA to not go to the gym. The city will send you an infringement notice."

 

Jughead laughs.

 

They lapse into silence for a moment, and Archie watches the darkened streets go by. Once again, out of nowhere he sees the sign for Charlotte Street, lamps illuminating the street.

 

He turns away from the window instinctively, and Jughead seems to notice, but says nothing. He knows though, where they are. He was the first to know. Of course he was.

 

“You can put some music on if you want. If I have anything cool enough for you now.” Jughead says warmly, trying to joke. Knowing already that he’s uncomfortable.

 

“I might just put on the radio, if that’s not too horrifying for you.” He replies, attempting to make a joke.

 

Jughead nods. “By all means.”

 

Some soft indie song fills the quiet of the car, in its final choruses. “I like these guys – they opened for us on one leg of our tour a year or two ago.” Archie says.

 

“It’s like six degrees of Kevin Bacon with you now.” Jughead says, without any real malice. Archie sees he’s smiling as he looks at the road.

 

They’re not paying attention to the song that it fades into, until Archie recognises the very familiar opening.

 

_Of course. Of course, this is the one that is playing now._

Jughead seems to recognise it too, and seems to be attempting not to react. Years of growing up together though, mean Archie can tell in the stiffening of his posture, the very slight narrowing of his gaze, keeping his eyes fixed squarely ahead on the road.

 

_Days when, we’d fight we’d fight till I would give in – perfect disasters, we were reaching, reaching for the rafters._

_And most of the days we were searching for ways to get up and get out of the town we were raised yeah because we were done._

Memories of every note he played with Josie, working it out, every word written down on paper that became part of the song, every subsequent performance of it rush though his mind.

 

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t have a light comment for it.

 

The song fills the silence, and the car is too small for any real space between them anyway, and it reaches the chorus.

 

_And we said crazy things like, I refuse to look back thinking days were better just because they’re younger days_

The worst thing is, he loves the song. It’s maybe his favourite off the last album, and it was well-received by critics, and the public, too. But it’s the worst possible thing that could have come on, right when they were having a good time. What it evokes for him is too much, right now.

 

The chorus thumps on regardless.

 

_Back when we were kids, swore we would never die. You and me were kids, swear that we’ll never die._

 

Jughead makes a strange sound, almost like choking. Archie glances at him, but he hasn’t changed his rigid gaze. It’s too dark to make anything more of his expression.

 

Just as Archie’s wondering if it would be worse to shut it off now, and admit how uncomfortable they are, or whether those ‘mindfulness’ finger-rubbing exercises will stave off the panic attack now building every second no one says anything – Jughead abruptly says something.

 

“Y’know, I hear this all the time, but I don’t think I’ve ever listened to it.” He says, too quickly, too casual. Archie’s willing not to notice, he’s so glad that Jughead is talking.

 

“Uh – do you like it?” He replies, a jumble of words tripping over his tongue.

 

Jughead nods, slowly, not looking away. “It’s really well written.”

 

“Thanks. I – uh- I’m proud of it.” Archie says faintly.

 

Jughead says nothing, then, “How – how do you guys divide up who sings where in your songs? Because you’re more in this one and she comes in on the chorus, was she ok with that? From what I remember she wasn’t a fan of backup.”

 

Archie isn’t expecting this question, and launches into speech without thinking. “Uh, every song is – different, so it depends on what parts suit each other, and what blends well, and uh, sometimes it’s based on who wrote the song more, and Josie knew I was more attached to this one than her so she was happy for me to take the reins on the verses–“  He babbles, and then abruptly shuts up. _Fucking hell, why don’t you just say everything you’re thinking, you idiot._

“Why are you attached to it?” Jughead asks carefully.

 

Archie doesn’t reply immediately, wondering what he can possibly say.

 

The relatively quieter final bridge of the song intercedes between them.

 

_Feel the years start burning, City lights they're turning. Something 'bout this feels the same_

 

The panic seems to be there whether he ends up explaining it or not. Fuck it, he’s been this honest anyway, might as well say this too.

 

His throat feels dry. “You know, I wrote it about you… About us. Growing up here.” He says, trying to sound casual but feeling only the knot of panic and nerves in his stomach.

 

Jughead takes his eyes off the road for the first time, for a second, to look at Archie. He looks – his eyes are mixture of confusion, irritation, disbelief. Then he looks back to the road.

 

“Nostalgia?” He drawls, and Archie can tell how affected it is.

 

“I guess.” Archie replies, trying to find what to say next.

 

Jughead chuckles, but there’s a weary edge to it. He sounds too similar to his Dad when he does that, Archie doesn’t like it. “It’s sweet,” He says, and Archie’s heart misses a beat. “Sometimes I get nostalgic too for when you, me and Betty used to hang out when were kids, riding our bikes, watching movies together.”

 

Archie’s stomach drops, and he stops trying to think of what to say. It doesn’t matter. He swallows.

 

“Yeah, I guess, I was just feeling like, old and nostalgic for how easy it was for all of us. Back then. You, me and Betty.” He lies. If Jughead notices, he doesn’t say anything about it.

 

“It’s pretty moving. You did a good job.” Jughead says, with a vague edge of irony. Or is he just projecting that? Archie doesn’t know.

 

He shouldn’t ask the next thing, but he’s already feeling crap, so why not? “It’s one of my favourites on the album. I guess you haven’t heard it?”

 

“No. But I’m not exactly in the cool-album loop anymore. It takes me forever to get to anything.” Archie doesn’t know why Jughead’s bothering to lie, but it’s cold comfort.

 

Finally, they reach the old yellow house. They sit in silence for a minute.

 

Archie’s about to say something like, “Guess I’ll see you Saturday,” and accept that maybe, there’s too much broken between them, when Jughead turns his head.

 

Now he’s the one who looks like he’s struggling with what to say. “Look…I had a good time hanging out tonight. Mostly. Do you… wanna get lunch sometime this week?” He says carefully, looking almost sceptical himself.

 

Archie is taken aback. “Uh – sure. Tomorrow?”

 

“Ok.” Jughead says resolutely. “Drop by the Chronicle around noon?”

 

Archie nods. “I’ll be there.” He says, surprised that he’s even making these plans.

 

As Jughead drives off, he stands in front of the house, wondering how to feel. And wondering whether he can get a drink, because until five minutes ago he’d been feeling like he’d just learned the world was about to end.

 

***

 

Mel is getting a soda from the ancient vending machine down the hall, and Josie is only half-watching the ridiculous rom-com they’d picked out on the TV, when the phone rings.

 

At first, she thinks that her phone is ringing. She’s a little tipsy, and she searches for it madly for a second before she realises it’s coming from the room phone.

 

She picks up the receiver, wondering if it’s front desk. Hoping it’s not some kind of creeper. “Hello?” She says, suddenly hoping Mel comes back soon.

 

“Josie?” A familiar girlish voice asks, softly.

 

Unbidden, she has a flash of giggling, long hair, a small manicured hand in hers, a floral scent. She shakes her head.

 

“Cheryl? How did you even get this number?” She asks irritably, although she’s sure she knows the answer.

 

“Please, Mrs Baker’s a pushover.” Cheryl replies flippantly.

 

“What do you want?” She asks, feeling tired suddenly.

 

There is a pause on the other end of the line. “I want  - I want to talk to you. I want to invite you over for afternoon tea, at my place, tomorrow.”

 

Josie wants to tell her to shove it, but she ends up saying, “Do you still live in that creepy-ass mansion? Cause there’s no way in hell I’m going there.”

 

“No. I’m on Amherst Lane now, number 8/96. Say you’ll come? I just…I just want to talk. Properly.” She sounds as unconfident and almost pleading as she’s ever heard her. This was a rare thing to hear, but Josie didn’t feel lucky. She just felt reminded: of being eighteen and devastated.

 

She goes to say no, but somehow, ends up forming the sentence, “What time?” instead.

 

“Four-thirty?” Cheryl says, cheering up.

 

“I guess I’ll see you then.” Josie says, annoyed at her stupid, traitorous mouth that keeps disobeying her brain’s direct orders to not make these plans.

 

“Brilliant.” Cheryl says, much more happily. “You won’t regret this, Josie.”

 

Josie snickers. “Yeah, I wouldn’t bet on it. Bye, Cheryl.” She says, and hangs up.

 

She looks around for her phone, and types out a message to Archie as Mel gets back in.

 

“What did I miss?” She says, sardonically.

 

Josie lies back against the headboard and raises her eyebrows. “Nothing much. I’ve just made afternoon tea plans tomorrow with my crazy ginger ex.”

 

Mel’s jaw drops.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I stole OneRepublic's "Kids" ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y56lpXvXbs0 ) for Archie's song, please go listen to it it's so worth it, especially in conjunction with this story :D
> 
> Also the cast went to Mexico and blessed us with these photos, one of which is 100% my mental image of LA josie and archie (at least a few years before this starts though) http://tavia-blake.tumblr.com/post/159296832904/daddybetty-riverdale-cast-in-mexico-2017


	7. We Are Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for bearing with me, i've been travelling a lot lately, and posting is kind of impossible on mobile devices because they wipe out all my formatting ugh - but this chapter is again, a long one so there you go :)

 

 _We're one, But we're not the same, Well we hurt each other, and we’re doing it again_ – **One, Johnny Cash**

_Summer had well and truly arrived, and even though school had a few more weeks left it felt different. This time it wasn’t just two months and back to the same old thing, and the excitement was thick with the senior class. The air felt full of possibilities, somehow now not strangled by the dark cloud that had lain over them all two years ago. People were feeling like they could imagine their futures as bright again, full of promise, unstoppable._

_Archie was taking full advantage of the long weekend to go on a long planned, then postponed, and now reinstated road trip with Jughead – his best friend wasn’t big on camping, but they were both looking forward to the solitude and wide-open natural spaces._

_As he packed the truck up with camping gear, his Dad helps, looking at him with pride and a little parental worry. “And you’ll call me when you have signal so I know you got there ok?”_

_Archie smiled. “Yes, Dad. We’ll be fine.”_

_His dad furrowed his brow. “Well, you know what can happen. Has happened. Just – look after each other. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”_

_He nodded, understanding. Convincing his dad to let them take a road trip alone was somehow easier when they had been fifteen, but a kid only a year or two older than them hadn’t been murdered then._

_“We won’t. It’s three days, and we’ll be back by Monday night. At the latest.” He said, trying to sound reassuring._

_Jughead came out from the house, carrying something he throws in the back of the truck._

_“Don’t worry, Fred. I know you kind of have to, but we’re tougher than we look. Anyone or anything looking for trouble would take one look at me, and back down, obviously.” Jughead said, with a smirk._

_Fred chuckled. “Ok, ok. I’ll let you get on – remember to let me know when you get there, please? And Jug, look out for him, ok?”_

_Archie scoffed indignantly. “I don’t need-“_

_Both Jughead and his Dad silenced him with a very sceptical look. “Point taken.”_

_Archie felt like he’d been looking forward to this for a long time – Jughead and he had discussed whether they should invite more people, but ended up thinking that they weren’t looking for a party. And they hadn’t been planning to the first time, so why should they change that now?_

_Once they got out on the road, Jughead found the aux cable and connected it to his phone._

_“Now as per our coin toss, I get to start our road trip playlist with something I like, which means that yes I’m going to continue to educate you on good music.” Jughead said, grinning as he scrolled through the playlist. It was a fairly democratic one, merging songs from both their libraries to create something they’d both like, even as different as their tastes ran._

_Archie mock-groaned. “What are you thinking?”_

_Jughead laughed evilly. “Oh yeah, prime indie-kid pretentiousness. Perfect.” He said, in a self-aware way._

_The song was older-sounding. Knowing his best friend, it was probably from when their parents were their age._

_It was warm sounding, in a way he couldn’t explain. It sounded nostalgic, even though he’d never heard it._

****

**_there is a wait so long, so long, you’ll never wait so long._ **

_“I like it.” He said, and Jughead smiled, bobbing his head a bit to the music. “Who is it?”_

**_here comes your man, here comes your man_ **

_“Pixies.”_

_“Awesome. Just you wait till the Weeknd comes on, though, it’s gonna go off.” He said, half-teasing._

_Jughead groaned; Archie laughed, and they sped toward their destination, feeling the worries they carried around all the time peeling away the further they drove._

_Suddenly he wasn’t in the car anymore, but at the lake with Jughead._

_They were laughing and Jughead looked at him and smiled, but it wasn’t right on him somehow. A flock of birds screeched overhead. “Can you keep this a secret?” He said, and held a finger to his lips._

_“What?” He wanted to ask but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. A bird screeched loudly, and he looked for it, and when he looked back Jughead was gone and she was there, her long brown hair out, smiling and still saying, “Can you keep this a secret?”_

_She moved towards him and –_

Archie wakes up, sweating, shaking and manages not to shout. It’s been awhile since he’s had a nightmare like that.

He picks up his phone and looks at the time. _6:37am._

It’s probably too early to call Josie, but he doesn’t know who else to talk to. He’s well past the age where he could run into his dad’s room and say he’d had a nightmare – the last time was probably just under two decades ago.

 

Besides, it’s not something they talk about. It’s not something they ever talked about.

 

He grabs his cigarettes, goes to his window, and opens it to feel the early morning air on his face. Then he lights up, smoking out the window. He shouldn’t really smoke in here, but he’s desperate for one. He sees Josie’s active on the messaging app, and decides to give her a call.

 

“Hey, is everything ok?” She says immediately.

 

“I’m not waking you up, am I?” He asks, quietly.

 

“No, I’ve been awake for an hour anyway.” She says, sounding tired but not irritable. “Did you just want to talk?”

 

He breathes. “I had a dream about her again.” He says, and she sucks in a breath over the line. He imagines her eyes flashing briefly. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit shaken and –“

 

“Don’t say sorry. You know I’m here.” Josie cuts him off matter-of-factly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

 

He breathes slowly, trying to keep it measured. “Yeah, it has…I think, being here, stirring up all of this stuff, I – I don’t regret coming, but I just don’t know…it’s fucking with my subconscious a bit.”

 

She makes a sympathetic noise. “I’m sorry…I know what you mean, being here is weird for me, too. We’ll get through all this, then we can go back home.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.” He says, dully, staring at the closed blinds of the window across.

 

Josie sighs. “So guess who I’m having ‘afternoon tea’ with today?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Cheryl.” Josie says and sighs again.

 

“How did that happen?” He asks, surprised. He has to talk quietly because it’s still early.

 

“She got a hold of my room’s phone number and called. I really meant to tell her there was no way, I don’t know what happened.” Josie says, sounding tired and annoyed. “Am I being totally pathetic?”

 

“No way! Jose, if it makes you feel better I keep ending up with plans to see Jug, even though last night ended on a weird note.” He says comfortingly.

 

“Oh yeah, your big catch-up was yesterday night! And the dinner – how was your night, basically?” She says, sounding interested.

 

He thinks for a second. “Good, I guess. Dinner was fine, it was good to catch up with Veronica. The catch up went well, with Jug, and we were getting along fine,”

 

“I sense a ‘but then’ coming up.” Josie interjects.

 

“Do you ever…” He says drily. “ _But then,_ we end up hearing one of our songs on the radio.”

 

“I don’t see how that’s – “

 

“It was _Kids._ ”

 

“Oh. No.”

 

“Oh yes.” He says quickly. He sighs. “I – told him about it. And he didn’t get it. He thought it was about _all_ of us as kids. How could he – _think_ that, after I told him what it was about?”

Josie is quiet. “Maybe he didn’t want to understand what you meant.”

Archie nods to himself, even though she can’t see it. He’s suddenly cold, drenched in cold sweat from the nightmare. It’s probably a reasonable time to take a shower now.

 

“I don’t know…” He replies slowly. “Do you want to meet up later?”

 

“Of course.” She says warmly. “Are you ok now?”

 

“More or less.”

 

***

 

Betty walks to the coffee shop, at seven-thirty in the morning. She and Jughead often meet for breakfast before work here, but she can tell he needs to talk more than usual.

 

She wants to stay out of it, let it be their issue, and not worry. But how can she? When she was there for the worst of it, when she had to pick up the pieces the first time.

 

And Jughead is her best friend, and she’s so afraid that he will get hurt again.

 

Not to mention, Archie. She had gotten out of the habit of worrying about him, because after a while it was like worrying about whether, Katy Perry, or someone was ok emotionally. It wasn’t a part of her life. But seeing him in person, after so long – he didn’t used to look tired like that, a decade’s worth of age and probable unhealthy choices written in his skin. She almost couldn’t connect the tattooed, three-day bearded rock-star with the boy she grew up next to. And yet, it was still him. She’d seen that the other day. Still remorseful, well-meaning, good-hearted even under it all.

 

So why can’t she shake the feeling that this is all headed for disaster?

 

It might also be because of a certain actress that just had to decide she wanted to come back for her ten-year high school reunion. Why? She hadn’t exactly been looking forward to it, but she had at least thought she could count on Veronica being too famous now to care what people she went to school with for two years were up to now.

 

It’s all dancing on a knife edge, and it’s stressing her out more than she would like to admit.

 

She is dragged out of her worrying by a phone call.

 

“Betty? Are you doing anything important this afternoon?” Cheryl asks sweetly. She probably needs something, but in the years since their niece and nephew were born she at least has learned to ask nicely.

 

“Well I was thinking of getting on with some work at home –“ She starts, but Cheryl cuts her off.

 

“Perfect, because I have a favour to ask.” Of course. “I actually am doing something important, and I know I promised Polly I would look after the twins, and I totally would any other day, but I really need you to take them for me,” Cheryl barrels on.

 

She sighs. “Cheryl, you could have at least given me some notice, I’m not sure-”

 

“Please, Betty. It’s really, really important. Vitally important.” She is genuinely pleading. Betty would ask what is so important, but Cheryl is better than most politicians at sidestepping a question she doesn’t want to answer.  “I’ll owe you a favour. I promise that. You know I keep my promises, Betty.” She says urgently.

 

“I guess I can…You owe me big, though.” She agrees slowly.

 

“Of course. You’re the best!” Cheryl says, and again sounds genuinely grateful and friendly. Their friendship, if you could call it that, is a strange one formed out of necessity – but it has its moments.

 

“No problem. So, robbing a bank?” Betty adds.

 

“Why would I need to?” Cheryl replies smoothly.

 

“You’ve got me there. Good luck with – whatever you’re doing, I guess?”

 

“Oh…thank-you. I’ll need it.” She says, sounding surprisingly quiet, and hangs up.

 

And the twins are coming over this afternoon, so she has to prepare her apartment for that. _Great._

 

*

She must look pretty anxious when she reaches the table inside where Jughead is already sitting, drinking coffee because he raises his eyebrows at her, looking concerned.

 

“Sorry I’m late, Cheryl called me and I got held up,” She says, sitting down.

 

“So that’s why you look like the sky is falling?” He asks.

 

She scowls at him, not serious.

 

He grins. “Sorry. But you used to get a similar expression around finals. What’s going on?”

 

She sighs.  “Nothing you need to worry about. Just a long day, and Cheryl needs me to take the twins this afternoon even though she was supposed to, and I was planning to do some cleaning, and finish some work, but I have to leave work early now-“

 

“Ok, first of all, breathe,” Jughead interjects. From anyone else, this might seem like an obnoxious _calm down, you’re making a scene_ thing to say, but she has known him long enough to know he’s genuinely just looking out for her.

 

She smiles, and takes a moment.

 

“I have some stuff on today, but I can try and come around and help, if you want?” He offers.

 

She smiles appreciatively. He was always the first to offer help, to try and make things a little easier on her. She is grateful to still have him in her life.  Past anything else, he’s always been a good friend.

 

“I should be ok, thanks, Jug. I’ll just try to get my work done before leaving.” She makes a face, then smiles.

 

“Ok, but let me know if you need me.” He says, taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“So, how was it?” She asks, in her best casual-sounding voice.

 

He gives her a look like he is seeing through it immediately, but says, “Ah, yeah, it was weird. It was...good.” He says, and he smiles like he’s remembering something, and it’s so familiar. She knows his smile, she’s known it all her life almost, but this is one she hasn’t seen in years  - it reminds her of a boy who’s about to dare his best friend to mix all the soda-fountain flavours together and drink it, and his ginger best friend who dared him to dare him to.

 

She smiles slowly. “Well that’s something.” His boyish smile has now been replaced by a more familiar ironic smirk.

 

“Tell us how you really feel, why don’t you?” He says, ribbing her. She blushes slightly, and laughs.

 

“Sorry, sorry. No, really, I’m glad it was good. What did you do?” She says apologetically, beaming.

 

She is happy to hear it didn’t end in abject disaster, her bets were 70/30 on that one. Not that they didn’t know how to care about each other, how to laugh and understand each other’s humour for two such different boys, but she knew better than anyone how brutal their fights could be.

 

“Hung out at Pop’s. Something new and unusual for us, obviously.” He says drily, and she laughs.

 

She sees his face change for a moment, like something’s occurred to him, or he’s just remembered it.

 

“Betty, did you ever listen to he and Josie’s last album?” He says, too studied by-the-way to really be that.

 

She’s not sure what to say here – certainly before this week she didn’t talk about their music or anything she had heard they were up to with him. She might sometimes talk about it with Cheryl or Kevin, but she knew he really didn’t want to know. But surely he wasn’t considering her listening to their music a betrayal now?

 

She decides to be honest. “Uh, yeah. I wanted to know if it lived up to the hype.”

 

He considers this. “What did you think?” He asks, like he’s not sure it’s the right question.

 

“I – I thought the hype was right. From what I’ve heard over the years, it’s the best I think I’ve heard from them. It’s a really...mature, well-produced, memorable album.” She rambles, unsure of what he’s looking for.

 

He shakes his head, and she half-laughs. “I’m – I’m not sure what you’re asking?”

 

He looks sheepish, embarrassed for a second. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m asking, don’t worry,”

 

“What inspired the question?” She asks, aware that there’s a reason, even if he can’t put it into words.

 

He looks at her, like he’s forgotten they do a fair bit of investigative journalism as part of their day job. He smiles ruefully. “Just something Archie said about one of the songs when I was driving him home. Doesn’t matter.”

 

She narrows her eyes sceptically, but doesn’t press it.

 

Unexpectedly, he says, “So, you know that one that’s always on the radio right now? The new one?” Like he almost wants her to pry into it.

 

“I think I know the one, yes...”

 

He looks away for a second like he’s regretting bringing it up again. “Did you ever feel like it related to you personally, you Betty, like in the lyrics?” He studies her carefully.

 

She thinks about it, and wonders how to answer. “It reminded me of some things, but – I don’t think so. Not about me, anyway.”

 

That was probably the easiest way to answer. The first time she’d heard the song in full she’d just sat there in the car, even though she was already home. It hadn't been hard to figure out who it was about, really. Not if you’d known them. It wasn’t even a sad song, but she’d almost cried for the simple honesty and wistful nostalgia of the lyrics.

 

Maybe it wasn’t even totally about the friend lost to her, and the one lost to him. Maybe it was even her own wistfulness for the past, for being seventeen and fearless and in love. They were almost all lost to each other, she had thought at the time.

 

He looks pensive, and like he didn’t get the answer he wanted, maybe.

 

*

 

Betty leaves the coffee shop, and is walking past the newsagents when she sees Hermione walking out with a hessian market bag full of produce. Hermione beams at her, and stops to talk.

 

“Betty! Heading to work?” She says warmly. She likes how Hermione always seems genuinely pleased to see her. They see each other around town often, and her familiarity with both her and Fred means that she’s got an open invitation for dinner almost anytime, which is nice, especially if she is looking after the twins and hasn’t had any time to cook.

 

“I am, but I’m not in a hurry. I see you’ve been to the farmers market already?” She replies, smiling.

 

“You have to get in early, if you want the good stuff.” Hermione says conspiratorially, smiling.

 

“Yeah, I should go more, I just don’t have the time. You know, work and such. I love their produce though, I’m jealous.” She jokes.

 

Hermione gives her a very motherly look. Motherly here meaning, warm and concerned with your wellbeing, not an Alice Cooper motherly look, which is more ‘worried about you, but showing it in an angry, intense way’.  “Well you know, you’re always welcome to help us eat it.” She says kindly.

 

“Thanks, Hermione. This week is a bit hectic, but I’d love to sometime soon.” She says. Those dinners are more fun than her semi-regular ones with her own mother, but then other peoples’ parents don’t know how to incidentally push your buttons and bring out your neuroses.

 

Hermione beams. “Well, let us know.”

 

“They didn’t have the Times, nothing’s changed. I know I can just look at it on my tablet, but you know I’m old-fashioned, I like to have the – “ Veronica immediately breaks off, coming out of the newsagents and seeing who her mother is talking to.

 

Betty’s stomach twists. Of course Hermione’s not alone. How could she forget she’d probably want to hang around her daughter, one she barely sees in person, when said daughter is in town?

 

She’s wearing black cat-eye reading glasses, similar to a pair she used to wear, but they probably cost more than Betty’s car. She can’t tell if Veronica is wearing them for reading or just for the aesthetic appeal, but they look good on her. She looks good, especially now Betty’s not viewing her through the canned beans.

 

The only indication that she is surprised in any way was a slight widening of her eyes and two small dots of colour rising in her cheeks, but she transitions it smoothly into a smile before Hermione even looks at her.

 

Betty isn’t as good an actress as the one in front of her, so she feels her smile drop a little, and hopes she still looks calmer than she feels.

 

She’s internally panicking that she should be the one to say something first, but having no idea what, when Veronica picks up the thread first.

 

“Wow, I forgot what it’s like in a small town. Of all the gin joints etc.” She says casually, without malice, but with a familiar smirk. “It’s so good to see you, Betty.” Hermione beams, but Betty feels like Veronica probably doesn't mean it.

 

She smiles anyway. “It’s really great to see you, too, Veronica. I wasn’t sure you’d have time to come to this thing – it might be the first time anyone nominated for an Oscar has been in the school auditorium.” She says, attempting a half-joke and wishing the ground would swallow her up.

 

Veronica smiles. “I have some time off since I wrapped filming. Looks like it’s going to be quite the star-studded party, actually.” She says it with a little hint of irony in her smirk, eyes twinkling.

 

How much it reminds Betty of her former friend’s teenage self is almost breathtaking, and she hopes she can get away soon because it’s too weird to have Hermione there, watching this, and having to pretend like everything’s sunny and happy with her. Not that she’s not used to doing that. But, as her therapist tells her, she needs to practice not doing it. It’s not healthy.

 

She smiles, not confident enough to fake a laugh, and nods. “I guess it’s gonna be. I saw Archie and Josie yesterday, actually.”

 

“We saw him yesterday too. We had a little family get-together. So amazing to have them both under one roof for once, they’re so busy.” Hermione says, sounding proud.

 

She’s obviously not Archie’s mother, but Betty knows she cares about him like a son, and often comes with Fred if he’s flying out to meet him in Los Angeles, or somewhere else in around the country. It amazes her that she has such a deep capacity for caring for others, bringing people into her family despite not knowing them long - like Betty and her sister or her sister’s children or even her stepson’s childhood best friend. But Fred was already like his other father, there for him when his real one flaked out, so maybe it wasn’t surprising she accepted him too.

 

Veronica laughs, light and breezy. “It’s ridiculous. It was fun though, I can’t remember the last time we all got together.”

 

Betty smiles, genuinely, at the thought – she knows how much their separate parents miss them, even if they don’t say it all the time.

 

“You should all catch up, while Ronnie and Arch are in town – this is a pretty rare occurrence, right?” Hermione suggests brightly, and Betty notices Veronica’s smile tighten.

 

“I mean, that would be great – if Betty’s not busy with work?” Veronica says, in a measured tone, looking at her.

 

She doesn’t know what to say, or what Veronica wants her to say, so she ends up stumbling out, “Oh uh, that sounds good, I’d have to check my work calendar, y’know.” It’s sufficiently noncommittally nice that it won’t seem like she’s uncomfortable with the idea. Hermione beams, and Betty can’t be too annoyed – she’s just trying to help.

 

“But speaking of work, I really have to go. It was great to see you two though!” She says, smiling apologetically at them.

 

“You too.” Veronica says, smiling. There is something in her eyes she can’t decode right now. Hermione turns to go, and Veronica adds, unexpectedly, “I’m at the B&B.” She smiles, but it’s different to her actress-smile, and Betty really can’t decode what this means.

 

She smiles, feeling awkward. “Ok, good to...know.”

 

Veronica smiles, and turns to catch up with her mother.

 

Betty walks the rest of the way to walk trying not to attempt to decipher what Veronica really meant and how she really felt, and failing.

 

_“Come on, we need to party. It’ll be good for us.” Veronica implored her at lunch._

_Betty sighed deeply. “You know how I feel about parties. They only end in disaster.”_

_Veronica pouted. “I agree, there has been some drama in the past, but that was a while ago – come on, it won’t be fun without you!”_

_Josie came over and sat down next to Veronica, while Valerie and Melody slid into the opposite seats next to Betty. “What are we talking about, ladies?” She asks, poking at something on her lunch tray._

_Veronica turned to them. “Thankyou! Can you guys help convince Betty to come to Moose’s party with us?”_

_“My mom’s gonna be out so we can get ready at mine, play some music, it’ll be fun! Val and Mel are going with us, we’ll miss you if you’re not there.” Josie said to Betty in her most persuasive voice, smiling at her._

_“To be fair, I’m only going because Val and Josie think I need a break from studying,” Mel breaks in, with a empathetic look at Betty. Josie narrows her eyes at her, shooting her the briefest of warning looks._

_“Buuut I’m looking forward to going out. It’s nice to hang out with you guys, anyway, and if we hate the party I’ll give you a lift back with me,” Mel amended, and Josie and Veronica beamed at her._

_“Why are we going to a party at Moose’s, again?” Betty stalled. She could feel her resistance to the idea crumbling, but she was going to try at least._

_“It’s his eighteenth birthday, and his parents are actually allowing him to have a blowout – I don’t know why, but I guess it’s their funeral. All I know is, we could all use some time off from semi-finals study hell. C’mon Betty?” Valerie explained._

_“Yeah, c’mon Betty!” The four girls chorused, grinning._

_Betty blushed, smiling, and sighed. “Ok fine. Let’s go to Moose’s!”_

_Josie raised her can of Coke. “To going out with your girls, and forgetting the boy drama.”_

_“Amen!” They all cheered._

 

*

 

_“...we don’t have to rush, when you’re alone with me – I feel it coming, I feel it coming babe...”_

_Betty was surprised to realise it, but she liked the playlist. It was fun, and she liked dancing with her friends. She kind of hated to admit it, but she was enjoying the party. Turns out they’re a lot more fun when they don’t devolve into people revealing your mental health issues to everyone gathered._

_Earlier, they were all dancing in a big group, but as she looked around she realised that it was down to her, Veronica and Mel. She could see Val chatting to that exchange student, the one she had a crush on. She had no idea where Josie had disappeared to, though. And though she hadn’t come as part of their party group, Cheryl had floated over at some point to say hello and dance. Betty was surprised she wasn’t all over Reggie, or someone. Who, come to think of it, she couldn’t see anywhere, either. And someone had told her Jughead had turned up unexpectedly -_

_She would’ve attempted further thought down that road but Mel was saying something to her. “I gotta go, if I break curfew my parents are gonna be so pissed.”_

_She frowned. “Awww no!” She said. “Are you ok to get home?”_

_Mel nodded. “I’m pretty sober now, and I don’t live that far from here.”_

_Veronica frowned too. “So annoying you have to go! Text us so we know you got back ok?”_

_Mel smiled. “Sure.” She holds out her arms to hug them both, and they huddle together for a second. The strange thing about drinking, that she had only recently discovered, is that you never know who you’ll end up bonding with. Mel and her had never been close, but the Pussycats had started sitting with them more this year, and right now she felt like they could be besties._

_“Guess it’s just B & V now? C’mon, let’s dance, I love this song.” Veronica said as Mel left, and they made their way back into the dancefloor. She giggles, allowing herself to be led._

_“...I hear sounds in my mind, brand new sounds in my mind...”_

_They were all drunk, but Betty didn’t care. For once in her life, she could let go._

_Veronica moved well and she’d like to think she wasn’t too bad a dancer, but she didn’t care if people thought she was because she wasn’t thinking about them._

_“I’m waiting for it, that green light I want it...” They sung along, and the music was so loud they could barely hear their own voices._

_She was having the most fun she’d had in ages, and it was like all she could see was the girl in front of her, laughing, singing along, dancing with her. Veronica had this quality of drawing things out in people, which was scary when you first met her. She made Betty feel bold and scared at the same time, like how she just made you feel like anything was possible – you can become a cheerleader with me, you can ask your crush to the dance, I’ll defend you to the death if anyone tries to hurt you – and that had been all on the first day they met._

_But that was then. Maybe it was her drinking-brain, but she didn’t feel scared of her in any way right now. They were friends, and she was just so happy at this moment that she had come into her life two years ago._

_“I just wanna say that I’m – “ She began, giggling along with Veronica, but then her stomach wobbled. Oh no, she was not going to ruin this by throwing up here._

_She put a hand to her mouth and Veronica seemed to intuit what was happening, shepherding her out of the crowd and out of the house. There was no one outside really, perhaps because it was cold, but she appreciated the cool air right now. It had been stuffy, hot, inside and she hadn’t even registered it till she felt sick._

_Though now she was outside, breathing in the cold air without the music pumping, she didn’t feel like she was going to be sick._

_“Are you going to be sick? I can try and find you a glass of water, maybe?” Veronica asked, sounding worried._

_She rubbed her face and looked back at Veronica. “No, false alarm I think.”_

_Veronica seemed like she was trying not to smirk, but lost the battle._

_Betty could feel herself blushing, an odd feeling of warmth in her cold-air dusted cheeks. “What?”_

_Veronica shook her head. “Just glad you’re ok.”_

_Betty laughed. “Thanks. It was a bit intense, in all of those people.”_

_Veronica was staring at her, in an odd way, smiling. “Yeah. I didn’t mind it though.”_

_Betty didn’t know what to say, couldn’t put her finger on what was making her feel weird. She looked away for a moment._

_“What were you going to say, anyway?” Veronica asked, a giggle in her voice._

_Betty tried to remember. All she could think about was that Lorde song that was playing before. “I think I was just going to say... I really needed this, tonight. I’m glad you moved here. I’m glad you’re in my life, Ronnie.” She said, a slow, happy smile stretching across her mouth as she looked at Veronica._

_This time, it was her who didn’t say anything immediately. Her eyes were dark, but warm, incredibly fond. She said after a moment, softly, “I’ve been glad to be, from the minute I met you.”_

_Betty couldn’t reply, just kept her gaze. She shivered, involuntarily, and couldn’t say that it was definitely because of the cold._

 

_“Are you cold?” Veronica asked immediately, with a soft little smile._

_“A little. I’m ok.” She said, even though neither of them were wearing jackets and were only wearing short, thin-strapped dresses._

_“Can’t have that.” Veronica said, and began to rub her arms. She giggled. “You’ve got goosebumps.”_

_“It is cold out here, what’d you expect?” She giggled, and realised how close they were. Veronica’s hands were warm, and that was all she could think about. They were pulling her in closer._

_Her heart was beating so fast she thought she might go into cardiac arrest, but she didn’t want to move. She couldn’t even hear the inside party, the music seemed to have faded into nothing._

_Veronica was looking at her, almost scared, but with such deep affection. It burned in her eyes._

_She leaned towards Veronica, and Veronica kissed her. Then she kissed her back. Boldly._

_Maybe it was because Veronica was the only girl she had ever kissed, even before today, but it felt both familiar and like nothing else. She’d had great kisses with ex-boyfriends, to be certain, it wasn’t like she was realising they were terrible – but this felt different. It felt like – fate._

_She rested her forehead against Veronica’s, lips still tingling._

_“Was that better or worse than two years ago?” Veronica joked, softly, after a while._

_She let out a giggle. “Well it was certainly less exhibitionist, so...”_

***

Jughead looks up something online, edits some of his writing, updates his sources, but he can’t pretend that he’s fully focused on the work as much as he tries.

 

It’s ridiculous. He’d spent ten years being able to put them out of his mind – changing radio stations, not reading things on the internet – and yet now the real thing is back, talking to him, joking with him like they were kids again, he can’t focus.

 

Jughead sighs and gets up to make his second cup of coffee.

 

They’ll be gone by Sunday. Then things will go back to normal. More worryingly, he’s not sure the thought brings him any comfort.

 

Archie’s supposed to be here around noon. Then they can continue this strange new evolution of their friendship that’s both awkward and comfortably familiar, dancing around talking about anything important.

 

_He’s surprised by Betty as he’s getting out his books. As he closes his locker, she’s there behind it. “Hey, Jug.” She grins at his expression. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”_

_“Call Wes Craven, because you’re a scream.” He says drily._

_“Nice, I like it.” She laughs. “What do you have next?”_

_“English. Although Mrs Hopwood’s passion for Graham Greene is sapping my life force, I’m so ready to be done with The Quiet American, that’s the third book of his she’s set for us this year-”_

_Archie walks up to them. He smiles at both of them, but turns to Betty almost immediately. “I’ve got your bio notes.” He says, pulling them out of his backpack._

_“Thank you, oh my god! I was worried I wouldn’t have them for next period.” She said gratefully, tucking them into her book. “Actually, Jug was thinking he might work on some paper stuff over lunch, if you wanted to join?” She said._

_Jug felt his stomach clench. He’d said to her that it was fine if they wanted to join, it wasn’t weird._

_“I would join too, but Cheryl’s making Veronica and I attend some River Vixens nonsense,” she said, and Jughead felt worse._

_“I thought you said you were coming?” he said to her, trying to keep an anxious note out of his voice._

_She looked genuinely sorry. “She texted us just before, I think we have to go. But you’ll have Archie, right?” She said, looking at him hopefully._

_He looked awkward, like he wanted to not be having this conversation. He met Jughead’s eyes for a second and looked away. “I, uh, was going to go to the music room and practice.” He said stiltedly. “Sorry, Jug. We’ll catch up.” He said contritely, and sort of nodded at Jughead._

_“Yeah, we’ll catch up.” Jughead repeated, trying his best to sound casual._

_“I gotta go, see you - later.”  He said, still half-smiling apologetically, and turned and walked away quickly into the throng of students._

_Betty turned to him with a quizzical expression. He did his best to make his calm appear unstudied._

_“That was weird,” she said. “Is there something going on with him again?”_

_Jughead’s heart thumped. “Weird? I don’t think that was weird. You know him, easily distracted.”_

_She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and he didn’t like it. She used to make that face when they were investigating and something had just occurred to her._

_“It’s something between the two of you – actually, you’ve been weird with each other since you came back from the long weekend.”_

_He felt sick. They might now be comfortably far enough from their own relationship - a comforting but ultimately confused thing in its own right – to be close friends again, and he (to the surprise of himself and everyone else) ended up actually supporting the Reggie thing, and he understood that now, but they weren’t at a place that he could be comfortable talking about what happened with her._

_“No we haven’t. We’re fine,” he lied, hoping the natural affectation of his voice would cover it._

_She didn’t look like she was buying it. “It’s like you – had a fight, but instead of doing what you usually do, and not talking, you’re just – awkward – around each other,” she said, seemingly at a loss._

_She was going to figure it out, right here, and then he’d have to tell her and he really didn’t think he could handle that._

_She looked at him, and he looked back, frowning. “Ok, well, you don’t have to tell me. I just hope it gets better soon, ok? I care about you both, you know.” She said kindly._

_He felt bad for being mad at her. It wasn’t her fault – they felt weird around each other, but there was no reason they couldn’t get back to their comfortable friendship. This kind of optimism felt weird for him, but this time he had to believe it. It was fine. This awkwardness would pass._

_***_

Archie waits around for his coffee, and wonders when his hometown decided to start a farmers market. Of course, there were markets in bigger towns when he was living here, but this is a real market with produce and stalls selling little handcrafted trinkets and organic soaps and stuff. And they have a coffee tent.

 

This sort of thing is commonplace in L.A, so much that you’d barely notice. You could find artists selling handicrafts on Venice Beach almost year-round – but this was another thing he realised was proof of the fact that the town had changed in ten years, even if it felt mostly like it hadn’t.

 

Josie had told him about it, having heard about it from her mother, and Hermione had mentioned it in passing at dinner, so they had decided to check it out. It was something to do, anyway, the town hadn’t gotten _that_ much more interesting in the last decade.

 

She was currently looking at some stall opposite the coffee tent, having already gotten her caffeine fix on the way here, him having waved her on to do something more interesting than wait with him in line. There was also the way people were staring at them – his hair rendered him fairly recognisable anywhere, but together it was near-impossible to mistake their identities, especially for those who remembered them from their eighteen years here.

 

“Archie?” said a familiar voice to his right, shaking him from his thoughts. He turned to see a woman with tight-curly hair, wearing a bemused smile and holding a child on her hip. He couldn’t be more than two or three, but he never could guess ages.

 

“Valerie!” he replies in surprised excitement. She smiles deeply, and she always had a beautiful smile. He’s almost surprised she seems genuinely happy to see him. He’d not got a chance to say goodbye, or maybe he was afraid to, after the offer was made.

“I totally didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” He continues, wondering how he missed her right there.

 

She laughs. “It’s alright – now just give me one second.” She transfers the child to the stroller she has with her, and it seems remarkably well-behaved because it doesn’t do anything but gurgle at the change.

He doesn’t have time to process the whole image, because she straightens up and hugs him warmly, which he returns.

 

“You have a kid!” he says, unable to not sound so stunned.

 

She laughs again. “Weird, right? I guess that’s a real adult thing.” She looks down at the baby affectionately for a second.

 

He can’t help but smile, as bizarre as the situation is to him. Somehow he’d never thought that some of his old friends would have children now, even though they were definitely at the age where people starting having families. Especially around here – his dad had been a year younger than him when he’d been born and had just started his own business.

 

“Yeah, it really is...” He says, looking down at the child. “It’s pretty cool you made another human though.”

 

She beams. “I think so.”

 

“So are you waiting for your coffee?” He asks.

 

“Yes,” she replies. “If you’re not busy, I’d love to sit down with you here, if we can find a table.”

 

“Of course!” He says and hears his order called. She nods to him to pick it up. The teenager working the counter, maybe the child of the man who runs the tent, gives him a funny, almost disbelieving look when he hands him his coffee. “Thanks, man,” he says nicely, and the boy’s expression turns into a kind of stunned smile.

 

When Valerie collects her coffee shortly after, they find an empty table.

 

“I...I can’t get over how different you look,” she says smiling bemusedly. “I mean, now I’m really looking, of course it’s you, but I almost didn’t recognise you before. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s a very rockstar look.”

 

He blushes, grinning. “You’re like, the third person to tell me that this week. Shi-“ He considers the young child, and hastily changes what he’s saying, “-eesh.”

 

Val grins. “Very smooth.”

 

The baby suddenly begins to grizzle, which is alarming, but Val just leans down to him and makes calming sounds, and picks him up to sit on her lap. This calms him just as suddenly. Archie does not understand children, even though he generally likes them more than Josie.

 

“What’s his name?” he asks, watching the baby cling to her.

 

“Jimi.” She says, grinning. “I know, I’ve become one of _those_ parents, but I figure it’s not weird enough to get him teased.”

 

He laughs. “Hey, you’re talking to a guy named for a great-grandparent, so that was fun as a child. And I’ve met so many weirder named kids, in L.A – for some reason fame makes people name their kids the most f—effing weird things.”

 

“Oh?” She laughs.

 

“Someone I know named their daughter Carrion,” He says, and Val gasps in amused horror. “Another one named their son Suit Yarn, swear to God.”

 

She shakes her head, laughing. “You’re making that up!”

 

He raises his hands in mock-defense. “You can Google it. I’m not kidding, though I wish I was.”

 

She shakes her head again, in disbelief.

 

“So, Jimi. Are you going to be devastated if he has no talent for guitar? I remember how much you loved Hendrix,” he says, jokingly.

 

“Oh yeah, he can’t play I’m disowning him,” she says, mock-seriously. “And I’m glad you apparently know who he is now?” she teases.

 

He puts a hand to his heart, feigning offence. “I’ve been a professional musician for ten years and you think I still don’t know Hendrix, I’m hurt!” She grins.  “No, you’re right, I do have to thank you for introducing me,” he concedes, beaming.

 

She laughs. “ _Someone_ had to try and rectify the tragedy that was your musical taste.”

 

He snorts. “Fair.”

 

“So, what are you up to? What are you doing?” ~~~~

She smiles. “I’m sure it’s not that exciting compared to you,”

 

“It’s much more interesting to me,” he cuts in. “Is there a non-creepy way to ask if you’re married? That’s exciting.”

 

Valerie laughs lightly. “Probably not, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” She rocks Jimi a little on her lap. “I didn’t think I would be the type to marry in my mid-twenties, but I’ve now been married coming up on three years, which is weird. But, in a good way.”

 

Archie nods. “Anyone I know?”

 

She seems to think for a moment. “Do you remember that exchange student we had, senior year? He was Chinese, but he came from England?”

 

Archie grins. “Daniel? I remember you had a crush on him,”

 

“Yeah, a bit.” She chuckles. “So, I did some travelling in Europe, got in touch with him, and then we stayed in touch till he moved near here for work. He’s – he’s a good guy. A good dad.” She beams, looking like she’s thinking about some memory.

 

He smiles warmly at her. “I’m glad... I’m glad you’re happy, Val.”

 

She looks at him, still smiling, but pensive. “Thanks, Arch. I just hope...I mean, are you?”

 

He looks away, then back, with a rueful smile. “I’m working on it. Trying to be less of a ‘hot mess’. It’s a work in progress.”

 

She grimaces at the memory, and smiles empathetically. “I shouldn’t have said that. I hope you remember I didn’t mean it.”

 

He shakes his head. “You’re fine. You weren’t exactly wrong...I was an idiot, I didn’t treat you right – I think I probably had it coming.” He chuckles. “Although the beer was not fun.”

 

She puts the hand that isn’t holding Jimi across the table to grasp his hand, briefly. He’s surprised how motherly the gesture feels. “As I told you before, it’s alright, I forgive you. It was hardly the defining relationship of either of our teenage years.”

 

He chuckles. It’s not that he thinks that or regrets the break-up now, but the sting of remembering how badly he’d acted and the humiliation of being called out in front of everyone, again his fault. They managed to become friendly, later, even sort of friends again – but he could never fully forget it all every time he saw her. Somehow though being here, twelve years later and seeing how happy she is – the old memories sting less.

 

“So do you still play?” he asks, wondering if he’s heading into bad territory. She smiles, surprised.

 

“Yes, I’ve playing down at this local bar, although not so much since Jimi was born. I’m actually –“ She glances at him, something worried in her eyes, still smiling. “I’ve actually been teaching music at the high school for a few years.”

 

He can’t entirely stop the twist of panic in his stomach at the thought, though he tries not to show it. It’s ridiculous. It’s not like the position is cursed, like in Harry Potter or something.

 

She seems to intuit his discomfort. She knew about it, of course. She found out when they all did.

 

She reaches out a comforting hand again. It’s probably not the sort of gesture she could do if Daniel was here, but right now they’re just one old friend trying to comfort the other in some small way.

 

He smiles, tightly, at her, and doesn’t say anything.

 

She hesitates, then speaks quietly. “They don’t allow one-on-one music students now. They allow groups of students to practice with me, but there’s a whole system of checks and balances. They’ve made policies to stop things like that happening. Now. I – just thought you should, know.”

 

She looks sad, like she’s wondering whether that was the right thing to say, so he makes an effort to genuinely try and smile at her. “Thanks, Val. I’m sure you’re a kickass music teacher. Those kids are lucky to have you.” He gets it out, attempting to lighten the mood slightly.

 

She beams at him, bringing her hand back to stroke her son’s head lightly. “I hope so! I haven’t been able to do as much since Jimi’s birth, but I’m working my way up to three days a week now he’s getting bigger. As much as I love this little man, I cannot stay home all day with a toddler much longer. That’s what we’re doing here today, getting out and maybe buying some veggies, yes?” She says the last bit to Jimi.

 

He laughs, feeling slightly more recovered.

 

“Sorry, bad mom habit. Are you just checking out the markets on your own?” she asks, looking sheepish.

 

He feels awkward immediately. How had he forgotten about Josie? Where ~~even~~ was she? She probably would have texted if she’d left, and he hadn’t felt his phone vibrate.

 

Val’s face falls a little. “Right, of course. Stupid question. Is she here though? I hope you haven’t abandoned her somewhere so you can catch up with me?” ~~She says, but~~ Her voice has a harder edge than a minute before.

 

He shakes his head. “She’s at a stall across from here – I assumed she would come find me, but she might be haggling with a vendor,” he says, half-smiling apologetically. Her eyes look hurt, but not with him.

 

She doesn’t say anything.

 

He sighs. “She’d probably kill me for telling you, but I know she would really like to see you.”

 

She looks at him, her mouth an annoyed line betrayed  . “Well, maybe _I_ don’t want to see Her Highness.”

 

He keeps her gaze, with an empathetic look. “Look, I’m not telling you not to be angry. I know what she can be like, we’ve definitely had our bust-ups in the past –“ Val frowns, holding Jimi to her body like a protective shield. “But, if you can forgive me, for all the stupid things I’ve done – can’t you at least see her? You guys were like, a hundred times the friends we ever were.”

 

Val tuts dismissively. “That’s exactly why I can’t. Imagine your best friend then, Betty or Jug, doing something like that to you, then you’ll get me.”

 

“You know, I really don’t have to.”

 

There’s an awkward silence. Val gives him an apologetic look.

 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But I just – I’m sorry, I can’t,” she says, more softly. “It’s sweet of you to try though.”

 

He nods, unsure of what else to say. “I had to try.”

 

Jimi starts to grizzle again, and she leans her head down to calm him.

 

“Finally, I wondered if you’d been kidnapped! Well, I was haggling for a while, I know, I can’t help –“ Josie’s voice drifts over to him, as he sees her walk up and then it breaks off.

 

Val looks up from Jimi and her face falls. She sighs as Josie walks around so she’s beside the table looking at them both.  Josie looks stunned and very, very uncomfortable.

 

“Well, it was great seeing you, Archie. I’ve gotta get this one home, anyway,” Val says, with a tight smile at him. He returns it, feeling awkward.

 

“Val –“ Josie gets out, strained.

 

Val finishes packing Jimi in his stroller, and straightens up to look at her. “Josie,” she says neutrally. “See you Saturday.” Then she leaves.

 

Josie stands there, stunned, and drops into Val’s vacated seat.

 

“Can we go? There are a lot of people here,” she says faintly.

 

“We’re gone,” he agrees. She looks really shaken up¸ and right now more than anything he wishes that he could fix this situation. “I’m so sorry, Jose. I tried.” ~~~~

She looks at him, miserable – but with the beginnings of irritation too. He recognises it well.

 

“Well if you can’t get her to stop being mad, who can?” She says quietly, but with a harsh edge.

 

He bristles. “That’s not fair, why are you mad at me?”

 

She frowns, and looks like she’s struggling to bite back a reply.

 

They sit in silence.

 

“How are you guys so friendly? It’s not like you were besties in school,” Josie says abruptly. He can feel this turning into a fight, which they probably don’t want to have so publicly, but once Josie makes up her mind to do something, she can’t be stopped, which includes when she wants to fight.

 

“How is this my fault now? You know we were friends, would you rather I ignored her?” he says irritably, trying to keep his voice down.

 

She narrows her eyes. “Was that bond formed before or after you forgot you were dating her, for what, the whole two weeks?”

 

He swallows. “Nice, Jose.”

 

It’s a pretty low blow, and he doesn’t know what to say that won’t end in a public screaming match in this tent. This town might be surprisingly chill about their presence, and somehow they haven’t been trailed by any paparazzi but he doubts their luck would extend to that not going viral.

 

She still looks annoyed, but he can tell she’s already regretting the argument. He looks at his phone, for something to do, but jumps up when he sees the time.

 

“Shit, I gotta run, or I’ll be late to meet Jug,” he says, feeling stressed. It wasn’t exactly the emotional mindset he wanted to be in. He looks at Josie. He doesn’t want to leave the fight hanging, but he also doesn’t feel like he should have to apologise first. It’s not like he even did anything, this time.

 

She looks like she wants to say something, or possibly not have had the fight – and on any other day, she probably would just apologise, and they’d be ok again. It’s like it tapped into something deep and angry inside her, and she’s too mad to apologise now.

 

He gives her a last look, conveying ‘this isn’t done’ with his eyebrows. She replies, ‘later’ in a quirk of her frown.

 

Now he has to walk to the Chronicle, where he can add all her hurt ex-best friend anxiety to his existing hurt ex-best friend anxiety. Great.

 

***

 

Jughead pretends not to notice that Archie’s late. He’s not late enough for it to be properly rude, but he still has to silence a nasty voice that this is the one he decided was too much, and now isn’t coming.

 

“He’s probably just running late, you remember what he was like. Terrible at time management,” Betty says in an undertone, with a reassuring side glance at him.

 

“I haven’t even checked the time, anyway. I’ve got more important things to do right now,” he lies.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Betty nod, apparently choosing to go with it.

 

He gets up to grab something from the printer and sees Archie jogging up to the glass door of the office. Something in him unconsciously relaxes at the sight, and he kinds of hates it.

 

He looks – anxious, or irritable – as he gets closer, but when he meets Jughead’s eyes through the glass he smiles.

 

Jughead can’t help but smile back as he nods at him to come in.

 

It’s hard for him not to notice the looks Archie gets walking into the office. Jughead forgets that not all of them lived and worked here when he was just a kid who went to the school. They might have been vaguely aware that a few people in town had now-famous children they’d never met, but seeing one of them appear in their audience of Wednesday lunchtime was probably more surreal than they could understand.

 

Granted some of the older staff probably remember when he used to trick-or-treat at theirs as a short eight-year-old pumpkin, so they’re not all starstruck.

 

Coming up to him, Archie smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry I’m late – I was at the market, ran into someone, didn’t realise what time it was, had to run.”

 

Jughead shakes his head. “I’ve been so attached to this article I didn’t even realise it was midday already, so I guess – you’re off the hook.”

 

Archie seems like he’s willing to go with this, and smiles gratefully.

 

“Betty, hey!” he says, as she gets up to hug him.

 

Jughead doesn’t know what’s happened with them while he hasn’t been around, but they seem much more comfortable and friendly than he would have thought.  He suspects that they’ve had some kind of friendship-patching talk, which is probably good for her, but he’s vaguely jealous for a moment. There’s no awkward-unspoken undercurrent there.

 

“Can’t believe you work together, that’s so cool.” Betty beams. He glances at Jughead a moment, and back to Betty. “If Jug’s ok, do you wanna come get lunch with us?” Archie offers, and he can’t tell if he means it, or he’s just being polite. He nods in support, even though he’s not sure what a catch-up with all three of them would even be like. He’s leaning toward not good.

 

She smiles, looking touched at the thought. “I would love to catch up, but I’m rushing to finish some work actually, I’m going home early. But you guys have fun anyway.”

 

He frowns. “Well, we have to catch up sometime before I go.”

 

She smiles, looking slightly surprised, which she shouldn’t be. Of course he’d want to catch up with her. “Well, I think I’m gonna work from home tomorrow, if you wanna drop by in the morning – if you don’t mind sharing me with Polly’s kids. She’s working  a long shift at the hospital and needs me to look after them.”

 

He looks surprised for a moment, then grins, nodding his agreement. “Jesus, I forget they’re not toddlers anymore! I’m happy to. Don’t let me keep you though.”

 

Betty smiles at them both. “Well have a good lunch, anyway.” She turns to go back to her station, and it just them again.

 

“Well, I think we should get out of here before you cause the whole office to grind to a halt. Deb’s been at the printer a suspiciously long time,” he drawls.

 

Archie smirks. “After you then.”

 

***

 

Josie makes her way over to Amherst Lane, in a cab, watching the familiar trees and the leaves ~~being~~ whipped around by the wind. This was a nice part of town, near the house she grew up in.

 

She looks at her phone, feeling guilty. She hadn’t meant to go off like that on Archie. There were a lot of legitimate reasons that she got irritable with him, but that was not one. It had been a kind of childish jealousy, really, a remnant of her old frustration ‘ _things were so easy for him and no one ever stayed angry at him long’ –_ something she barely felt anymore, as she’d seen enough evidence to the contrary. Seeing how clearly _easy_ his reunion with her one of ex-best friends had been, when she’d barely _looked_ at Josie...it had hurt. She’d always had a bad habit of taking her bad mood out on people, even her best friends, and was trying in earnest to curb her instinct to stubbornly charge into an argument without stopping. Old habits, though.

 

She hadn’t talked to him since their argument, and her fingers hover over the buttons as she decides to finally send the text she’s been chickening out of sending to him.

 

_hey, sorry i went all psycho-josie on you. shouldn’t have lashed out, again i’m sorry. xo, yr very contrite asshole friend :)_

She’s never been great at apologies, but their friendship has developed its own dynamic with response to arguments between them, and it’s helped her get better at them.

 

The cab stops and she gets out, looking up at the charming apartment block of 96 Amherst Lane. They have the beautiful architecture of – maybe the mid-thirties? – but are probably modern-refurbished inside. She can’t see Cheryl wanting to live in another place with old, creaky, creepy pipes again.

 

As she enters the building and climbs the stairs to number eight, she wonders whether she’s doing the right thing. She could feel herself giving ground already, and that’s how it all had started.

 

_“I just don’t get it, is all,” Valerie said, as they ate lunch. “Why do you like her?”_

_Josie shrugged, nonchalantly. “I like that she doesn’t take people’s shit. She gets a lot thrown at her.”_

_Val raised her eyebrows. “She’s also thrown a lot. Often at our friends,” she pointed out._

_“Val, we’ve had this conversation before.” Josie said. It would be exasperating if it weren’t Val, who was only ever looking out for her. “She’s a complicated person, and I know she’s done a lot –  but you have to admit, hasn’t she gotten better since like, sophomore year? She’s friendlier to all of our friends now. I’m not saying she’s become someone else, but isn’t she better?”_

_Val looked like she was thinking about it. “I guess you have a point, she’s improved from two years ago.”_

_“Yeah, it was tragic that Jason died, but I’m thankful she stopped thinking of ways to remind people in every conversation,” Mel added, with a dark chuckle._

_Josie attempted not to smirk and failed._

_Val suddenly smiled craftily, like she knew something. “If I still cared about that relationship in the slightest, I’d remind you that she did go hard trying to steal my boyfriend sophomore year, for reasons I don’t want to unpack.” Josie looked sheepish, having almost completely forgotten about that mess._

_“But I don’t, so I’m just going to ask, are you sure you don’t just have a crush on her?” Valerie said, with a teasing smile._

_“Oooh,” Mel said, poking her in the side._

_She blushed, which was rare for her. “That is - she is just terrible, face-wise, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_They giggled. They had only gotten around to watching Parks and Recreation recently, years after it ended, but lines would stick with them for days._

_Val raised a shrewd eyebrow. “Alright. But if she hurts you in anyway, she’s going to answer to me.”_

_Josie shook her head, grinning._

_She walked home, through the woods, even though she knew her mother wouldn’t approve. But then again, she did a lot that her mother didn’t approve of._

_She was thinking about the start-of-senior-year party Cheryl had thrown two weeks earlier. She might live in a huge, creepy estate that Josie was sure was haunted – there was a graveyard on the grounds, for God’s sake – but whatever deal she had with her parents allowed her to throw some pretty great parties, hence the many teens who would venture out to such an otherwise creepy place._

_She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice a pair of gloved hands until they had clapped over her eyes._

_“Are you here alone?”_

_“Well, I’m meeting someone here, but she’s late, so that’s annoying..”_

_“Sorry, Tina had some drama,” Cheryl said smirking, removing her hands to let Josie turn around._

_Josie beamed at her, moving closer, shivering slightly in the early-February cold._

_Cheryl beamed back. “But I can make it up to you,” she said, and kissed Josie._

_Josie shivered again when they broke apart. “C’mon let’s get to mine. Mom is working late, and I am freezing.” She looked at Cheryl again. “I don’t understand how you don’t have frostbite. Bare legs? In February?”_

_Cheryl giggled, a musical sound. “I know people say I’m a cold-blooded bitch, but really I’m hot blooded.”_

_Josie took her hand, smirking. “I’m still not gonna be responsible for you getting gangrene, come on.”_

_Cheryl’s party had kind of changed her life, but for the last two weeks she hadn’t been able to tell anyone. Of course, she’d been pretty much out since she was fifteen – she’d never been much for trying to hide it, but it seemed like it hadn’t become common knowledge until a year later – but this was different. She hadn’t gone to the party thinking anything would happen, but then Mel and Val left earlier than her, and she ended up hanging out with Cheryl, cleaning up and talking. Then they had been sitting and talking, until suddenly they weren’t talking anymore._

_When they talked about it, Cheryl had pleaded to keep it secret, if they wanted to continue. With anyone else she could probably have stormed out, yelling that she deserved better – but she saw the real fear, the same she’d seen the time in the parking lot when they were thirteen, in Cheryl’s eyes. Josie had never liked the Blossom parents but she especially hated them now. Even for someone so ballsy, so unafraid of most things, her parents had a pull on her out of fear and duty and whatever else rich white nonsense there was._

_So now she was left pretending she was where she’d been before the party – denying her crush to her friends, and having a strange friendship with Cheryl at school._

_Well except Veronica, who had noticed she was sneaking off more – nothing got past her. Luckily, she was also the one who might just understand the most, and she agreed to keep quiet about it._

Josie was stirred from the memory by the door opening, a light waft of floral perfume reaching her senses.

 

“I’m so happy you decided to come, Josie.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep forgetting but these wouldn't be possible without the continued beta reading, great feedback and support from @manycoloureddays so check her out she's amazing
> 
> The songs are pretty self-explanatory but if you're desperate to know - Pixies, Here Comes Your Man; Daft Punk ft The Weeknd, I Feel It Coming; and Lorde, Green Light
> 
> I read this really great fic weeks ago that mentioned young Archie trick-or-treating as a pumpkin, and I thought that was an adorable image so i reference it in this chapter, but I cannot remember what it was called or who it was by so if anyone knows, comment and I will put in a credit to them here.


	8. Bad Decisions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo and to those of you who are still reading, sorry it's been so long! Studying has been a lot of stuff recently, coming up to end of semester. To make up for that, this chapter is super long. Hope you enjoy it!

  
  
_Save me, I’ve been drinking wine. I just made a big mistake, happens all the time._   
_So baby, why you look so sad? You’ve been trying too hard, too hard to be happy. Where’s the sense in that? –_ **Bad Decisions, Two Door Cinema Club**

  
Cheryl’s apartment is nice inside – probably professionally decorated, uncluttered, inviting. Josie wouldn’t expect different from her, but it’s also very different to her memories of that creepy mansion behind the gates. That place had never been inviting in its life, and it seemed designed that way.  
  


She watches Cheryl get two matching cups from the cupboard, as she’s waiting for the kettle to boil.  
  


The business must be going well if she affords this apartment on her own. Or maybe she’s taking money from her mother, but Cheryl’s too headstrong for that. She would want to prove that she doesn’t own her.  
  


Despite the inviting nature of the place, and the delicious-looking afternoon tea spread, she feels uncomfortable here.  
  


She likes to know the plan, where things are going – she excels at this at home when they need to know what their next move is, often. The fact that she has no idea what’s going to happen is making her nervous.

  
The kettle boils, and she watches Cheryl turn it off.  
  


“Do you still have sugar, or have you cut that out? I know there’s a big health kick culture in Los Angeles but I find so many people take it way too far, like that’s going to help more.” Cheryl asks her brightly, busying herself with pouring the hot water into a prettily-patterned teapot.  
  


She mostly has very little sugar – they have the money to eat healthy, and exercise well – but she can forgive small amounts. “Yes, one’s fine.”  
  


She helps carry the tea to the dining table, and wonders what Cheryl’s thinking. Once upon a time, she may have fooled herself that she was one of the only people in town who could figure it out, but she’d just been stupid and in love. Who knew what Cheryl was ever thinking?

  
They sit at the table, with its beautiful spread, and neither of them talk first.

  
Cheryl takes a measured sip of her tea, and then looks at Josie. Josie wonders what she's doing here, and what Cheryl is about to say. What does she want to hear?

  
"I thought I would know what to say, when I saw you," Cheryl begins, and Josie recognises a glimmer of nervousness in her eyes. "But then the other day - in hindsight, I suppose it's not surprising to think I might run into you outside your mother's office, but really I thought you wouldn't be in town until later - what I mean, is that I know you hate it when you think I'm being 'fake'. I wanted to invite you here to be real with you."

  
Cheryl keeps eye-contact, guarded but looking for her reaction closely.

  
Josie makes sure her face shows nothing but cool indifference, but really she has no idea how she feels. "Ok, I think I can do that." She says crisply.

  
Cheryl smiles, small but genuine, and Josie feels a warmth in her stomach. She wills it to go away.

  
"You probably don't want to hear it from me, but I _always knew_ you would be big when you got out of here."

  
Josie is busying herself buttering a scone. She wants to bite back, "That's not how I remember it," but that would be crossing an unspoken line neither of them is ready to yet.

  
Instead she nods, slowly. "Thanks." She says, honestly, looking at Cheryl. She looks like she's remembering - maybe the last time they talked, before this week.

  
"You haven't done too badly either," She says, feeling like she should keep the conversation going. "Archie told me you and Kevin Keller are in business?"

  
She beams. "Event planning. It's perfect - I get to yell orders into a mic, and micromanage everything, and people pay me a lot to do it."

  
Josie smirks inspite of herself. "Sounds perfect. So you work well with Kevin then? I guess I can see it?"

  
Cheryl breaks into a bemused smirk at this. "You're one to talk. I don't think any of us saw _that one_ coming?"

  
Josie smirks again, not being able to help it. "Fair point. He is _really_ the last person I would have thought I'd be hanging out with most by now. But... he's actually been a pretty great friend to me over the past few years."

  
Cheryl gives her an appraising look. “Funny how that happens, isn’t it? If you’d told me back in high school that in the future I’d be willingly be socialising with Kevin Keller and the Cooper sisters, I would have told you had a brain injury, and yet...it’s kind of nice to have friends, not just - lackeys.”

  
Josie nods her agreement. “If you had told me after the first time he asked to write for us that we were going to get famous in a band, just the two of us, I probably would have been like, ‘White boy with an acoustic guitar and I? Sure, when hell gets a snow day!’,” Cheryl smirks. “But here we are. I can’t picture my life another way, really.”

  
“You know, I had some idea that I would be famous when I was younger. I wanted everyone to know my name.” Cheryl muses.

  
Josie smirks. “They would love you in Hollywood, you’d be good for the drama.”

  
Cheryl laughs. “I think I enjoy being the director more than the performer now. No one controls me.”

  
 “That’s...really good.” Josie says, honestly, and then wonders if she should continue. “It took me some time to get back control of my life from toxic bosses and just, _shitty_ industry people, but now I choose what I’m doing – I hated feeling like a pawn in a bigger game.”

  
“Tell me about it.” Cheryl replies, a sharp note in her voice that doesn’t seem directed at Josie. “That’s why I started my own business. Why continue letting Penelope control me, when I can be my own boss?” She flashes a somewhat steely smile.

  
“Do you talk to her much?” Somewhere in her mind, Josie is proud that Cheryl seems to have broken out of the intense and creepy hold her family had over her.

  
Cheryl sips her tea, and then looks at her again, appreciatively. “I see her when I have to – the twins’ birthday, and the anniversary of Jason’s death, and some others – but mostly I keep out of her business, and she out of mine. She’s never been here. I wouldn’t ever want her to.”

  
“It’s your space. I understand the need. I love my mom, but I always put her up in a hotel when she comes out because I cannot have her staying with me, making ‘suggestions’ and judging what’s in my fridge.” Josie says, with feeling.

  
Cheryl smiles. “I don’t know if I’d even talk to my mother if I was famous. At least the Mayor loves you.”

  
Josie doesn’t try to disagree. She wasn’t sure Penelope even knew how to love the child that wasn’t her golden-boy son, a boy Josie hadn’t known well but who had never seemed like the more interesting twin to her. She hopes she won’t run into the woman in town, because she had always given her the creeps, and had only fake smiles for her as the Mayor’s daughter.

  
Cheryl looks at her with surprising sympathy in her eyes, but also hesitance. “How about your father? Do you see him much?”

  
Others might be surprised to know Cheryl was capable of caring so genuinely, but Josie knew that it was a privilege reserved for those she actually cared about. She always seemed at war with herself: the side of her that wanted to be chaotic and cause trouble, the one that dutifully went along with whatever lies her parents wanted accepted and the remorseful, afraid, empathetic one that wanted to save people from what was too late for her.

  
The mix of emotions the question made her  feel were confusing, irritating her – anger and hurt over her father, moved that Cheryl remembered, relief that she wasn’t using it to be nasty as she might have done a long time ago, and annoyance that she was moved at all.

  
She looks up from her tea, and attempts a disaffected, cool smile. They have always had that in common. She wonders whether to tell the truth, but somehow she can’t see this being an elaborate front to get secrets to sell to gossip websites, and so she continues. “I haven’t seen my father in like, six or seven years. Since I was 21, anyway.”

  
Something that Josie always liked about Cheryl is that she had a way of being sympathetic that wasn’t cloying.

  
“He was probably jealous that you outstripped him. I mean, you know my father was a monster. I wouldn’t have talked to him again if he hadn’t offed himself. There’s no reason for someone like him to take up space in your life, when you’re supporting yourself.” She says this in a coldly matter-of-fact way.

  
Coming from someone else, it could seem rude, but to her it felt like Cheryl was the only person who wasn’t going to urge her to try and get in touch with him. Theirs wasn’t a situation where things had been said, and neither had the courage to speak, it wasn’t a movie where everyone can fix their issues with their parents. It had just been over two decades of anger and disappointment reaching a breaking point.

_  
“C’mon, c’mooon, it’s heree somewhere..” Josie stage whispered, scrabbling around the doorframe._

_  
“Is it under the mat? My dad used to hide it there, hahah.” Archie giggled._

_  
“No, I was told there’s a key!” She replied, her stage whisper getting louder, unable to regulate her volume._

_  
“Shh, shh,” Archie shushed her just as loudly, and she giggled, mimicking the sound._

_  
“This isn’t gonna wo-ork,” He sing-songed, quieter._

_  
She looked at him, determinedly. “Hush your mouth. What was all our brilliant work convincing the doorman that we have news I couldn’t wait to tell him, and that he was, HAPPY,  to let us let ourselves in? You patting my stomach without actually ever mentioning a BABY? Do you want our best sober-acting to be a WASTE, Andrews?” She hisses at him._

_  
“That was pretty great – fuckowsch!” he overbalanced as he laughed, falling against a large, expensive-looking stone decorative vase._

_  
“Shh!” She said, giggling. He laughed too, inspite of it. “Maybe we should just go...home? Order a kebab...or like, three kebabs. Or like, a mountain of Indian –“_

_  
She held up a hand to stem the flow of food suggestions. Though a kebab sounded really good right now...But no, she was on a mission. “Wait a moment, I have a idea.” She opened her clutch and found her credit card. She had once seen a video on someone breaking into a room with a credit card, and had been so interested she’d learnt how to do it, and stored it away for an opportune moment. It was amazing how she could remember when she was this drunk though._

_  
The door unlocked, and she threw her hands up in victory._

_  
“Fuuuuck, that’s cool.” He breathed out, sounding awed._

_  
“I’m a FUCKING GENIUS.” She said triumphantly, laughing, and he shushed her, laughing as they pushed the door open and walked into the apartment, closing it behind them._

_  
“Drinks tray!” He called, and she whooped, coming over._

_  
“Nice taste. Feel free to take a bottle, Arch. Early Christmas present, there.” She slurred, laughing as she grabbed a bottle of scotch, and clinked it with the bottle of vodka he was holding._

_\  
*_

_“Shiiiit, I can hear something, Jose-“ Archie said suddenly, pulling her down behind the kitchen island they had been standing at._

_  
“Ow, what are yo – fuck, I can hear voices – he was supposed to be interstate tonight, shit –“ She whispered._

_  
They could hear a man’s voice, laughing and someone else. Clearly, he’d also been imbibing – and they were too drunk to be too worried about the situation._

_  
“Yikes,” she whispered, making a face and he giggled and she shushed him, grinning._

_  
They heard the door open. “You have to hear Baker on the first edition vinyl, baby, it’ll change your life-”  Josie mimed vomiting._

_  
“Myles, baby I would love to,” his breathy voiced female companion cooed, “But I think we’re alone now, finally.”_

_  
This set Josie and Archie off, giggling uncontrollably. What did it matter if he found them? It was all so ridiculous._

_  
“Hello? Who’s there?” came his voice, harshly. “Come out, unless you want me to call the cops?”_

_  
"Oh Myles, be careful!” the unknown female voice fretted. This only made them laugh harder. _

_  
They heard his footsteps come closer, until he was standing over them. His face transmuted from confusion to fury very quickly._

_  
She looked up him, still giggly. “Hi, Dad.”_

_  
“Josephine?” He hissed. “How did you get in? Are you drunk? This is a very bad time for this nonsense!”_

_  
She sat up, and raised a finger in the air like she was attempting to teach him a point. “Well, never you mind – did you know, some dads actually want their kids over? Archie here –  His dad was great. Always left a key under the mat.” Archie half-waved, failing to suppress his grin._

_  
Myles’ mouth became an even thinner line as he regarded Archie next to her. “Oh, it’s the Andrews boy, I guess you’re still hanging around him. I thought you didn’t even like him? From memory, he’s an idiot.”_

_  
Josie flared up, standing unsteadily, helped up by Archie. “Ok, first of all, fuck you, he’s more like my family than you are, and second of all, I can understand your confusion, that impression is only, what, five years old?” She might call Archie an idiot sometimes, and sometimes she might mean it, but fuck it if she was going to let Myles McCoy insult the only real friend she had._

_  
His date came over finally. Josie wasn’t surprised – she was younger than him by at least a decade, thin, model-looking._

_  
“Oh hey, I know you guys,” She said breathily, sounding surprised. “I had no idea she was your daughter, Myles. I love your music, wow.”_

_  
Archie looked mollified, but Josie narrowed her eyes, and smiled dangerously. “And III love that dress. You really are gorgeous, and you really could do So Much Better than this pretentious asshole. You’re young, you’ll be fine.”_

_  
The woman looked unsure of how to respond, open-mouthed and looked at Myles, as if wondering if she’d also been insulted. He looked thunderous. “Go home, Ava. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He said tersely. She looked like she wanted to question and began to do so, but he barked, “Go!” again and she left with a brief look at them._

_  
"This is unacceptable, Josephine.” He said, furiously. “What is the meaning of this, I should call the police on you!”_

_  
She laughed but it wasn’t with any real humour. “But you won’t! It would look so BAD for you wouldn’t it?”_

_  
“If this is about your birthday party, you know I had a function that night I couldn’t get out of. This is really childish, Josephine.”_

_  
She laughed again. “Childish? How about your girlfriend-of-the-week? She’s not much older than me! She is fucking gorgeous though, props for that. Not my type, but she is stun-ning. When do you trade her in?”  She said viciously._

_  
He narrowed his eyes even more. “Don’t be vulgar. I guess that’s hard not to learn for popstars like you, though. It’s a shame.”_

_  
She sucked in a breath, and Archie squeezed her hand once, comfortingly. Myles saw this and scoffed derisively. “And you think you can judge me for who I’m sleeping with, child?”_

_  
She let go and threw her arms up in frustration. “Jesus FUCKING CHRIST, how do you still not get this? I’m not ‘sleeping with’ him because I’m SO FUCKING GAY, and you know this, even though you pretend you don’t. Is that it? Is that why you never really want to see me, you never come to the things I invite you to, or is that only part of it? C’mon, I wanna know!”_

_  
He looks at her, with thinly veiled disgust. “You wanna know? Really?” He said, coolly._

_  
“After twenty-one years of your expectations, and missed birthdays, and general bullshit, I’d love to have an explanation at least for why I’m such a disappointment to you!” She fires back._

_  
“Fine! I never – wanted – a – child. I wanted your mom, and me, but I knew a child wouldn’t fix our problems. But we had you, and for a while I thought I could do it – but I saw you get older, I saw the way you dressed, the way men began to look at you, the way you never looked at them.” Myles said coldly. Then, almost wonderingly, “You’re like an alien to me, I don’t understand you. I just remember my sweet little girl, and I wonder where did she go? I think you should go home, and I’ll very kindly agree to forget about this.”_

_  
Josie’s eyes were glossy with tears that she willed not to fall, and she seethed at him. “Well, newsflash, I fucking get you. You’re a washed up, pathetic, pretentious asshat and you can’t STAND that I’m bigger than you already – your FUCKING pop-music singing, lesbian disappointment of a child – and I NEVER want to see you again. You can finally stop pretending you have any stake in my life.”_

_  
It was hard to know what effect her tirade had on him. His lips stayed thin and white, and his eyebrows stayed knitted together, and he said nothing as they passed him to leave. “_

_  
_ “It wasn’t fun, to say the least.” Josie continues.

  
Cheryl looks at her, as she stirs the rest of her tea around her cup, and says slowly, “It makes you realise how lucky you are to have other family – in a way it’s like I count my friends in that, and my niece and nephew are the most beautiful things to come out of such an ugly, miserable time in my life.” She smiles softly, looking at her tea swirling.

  
“I forgot, they must be big by now. Are they good kids?” Josie asks, weirdly fascinated – they had been born when she was a sophomore, though she’d only seen them a few times as babies.

  
“Despite my attempts to spoil them whenever I see them, they’re great – smart, great dressers, popular –“ Cheryl says, sounding proud. “Everything you’d expect a Blossom to be, obviously. Except that they’re popular because their friends actually like them, go figure.” She smiles an ironic smile, and Josie laughs.

  
“They sound great. Maybe I’ll be able to see them before I leave?” Josie ventures.

  
Cheryl smiles wider. “They’d love that, actually, if you have time. Ophelia especially, she loves your music.”

  
Cheryl had to have had some stake in naming her niece because the name was distinctly her, old-fashioned, literary, glamorous. Maybe she’d even compromised with Polly over an even more over-the-top one.

  
 “Well she sounds cool, then.” Josie jokes.

 _  
_ “She is.” Cheryl states proudly. “As much as I would love to see Polly dearest find someone who can support her, I do love that I can spend so much time with them when she’s working. It’s the closest I think I’ll ever be to having children, anyway.”

  
“Tell me about it.” Josie says derisively. “I swear, every year I get older more people are asking me if I want to get married, if I am going to have kids. Like I even have the _time_ for a relationship?”

  
Cheryl tuts in agreement. “I’m trying to run my business that has grown exponenentially in value since we opened it, with originally only _three_ people on staff at twenty-four years old. I have an MBA. But clients still ask, oh when are _you_ going to plan one of these events for yourself? Imagine when you have an Ophelia of your own, won’t that be nice? Like I have the fucking _time._ ”

  
“I hear you.” Josie agrees, raising her tea cup in a half salute.

  
“So, in the interests of being real, no relationships for you then? I’m just curious.” Cheryl asks nonchalantly.

  
Josie fixes her with a questioning look. They were going to get to this eventually anyway, though.

  
“Ugh, ok. I could do with something stronger than this if we’re going there, though.”

  
Cheryl grins wickedly. “I’ve got some wine in the kitchen, if you like Cabernet?”

  
Josie raises an eyebrow.

  
“Calm down, it was a gift from Kevin.” Cheryl says innocently, disappearing into the kitchen.

  
The wine is nice, wouldn’t have been cheap. It’s relaxing Josie. Cheryl only ever looks pleasantly flushed when she drinks, which considering her and skin combination, Josie always thought must be witchcraft.

  
She’s put some soft music on too, not the louder pop she had been so fond of, but the chiller indie-pop she used to listen to if no-one but Josie was around.

  
“She stole my favourite hat! Then she wrote a song about me. Of course no one knew it was about me, so I guess it was ok. That was kinda the last time I attempted an actual relationship-type thing.” Josie relates, laughing.

  
“I could totally see that about her. She puts out such a chill, quirky vibe but I’ve always thought she had a possessive look to her.” Cheryl replies with a irreverent giggle. 

  
“Your turn. What was your last attempt at dating?” Josie says, tipping her glass at Cheryl.

  
Cheryl rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what it’s like being famous, and maybe living somewhere with more than a few thousand residents, but it is _dire_ here. That sad gay bar is still all we have here, and there’s almost no such thing as not seeing your random Tinder hook-ups when you’re buying vegetables, or something.”

  
Josie giggles. “So not much then? No judgement, it’s not exactly easy to go on hook-up apps when you have a well-known face. Archie often feels like he has to wingman me.”

  
Cheryl laughs. “He would be a terrible wingman. Far too easily distracted.”

  
She snorts. “He is. But sometimes he gets it right.” She pauses. “There was this girl once, he introduced me to her at a festival. An actress. She was the closest I ever got to – whatever. Years ago now.” Cheryl is watching her, casually, but with intense eyes. “What about you? Did you ever get close?”

  
Cheryl opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I don’t know. I dated, but none of them, really...maybe once. It ended civilly though, I don’t think we miss each other.”

  
Josie nods, unsure of what to say yet.

  
Cheryl takes a steadying sip of her wine, and continues, looking directly at Josie.

  
“Josie, I’m – I’m sorry for how things ended. I don’t expect your full forgiveness immediately, but I have to think that you came here today because you wanted to hear what I have to say. I’ve thought about that day a lot over the last few years, and we both said things, but honestly – I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so, _so_ sorry that I did.”

  
 Josie’s head is spinning, and it’s not the wine’s fault. Cheryl was right – what had she agreed to come here for if not to have this conversation? But the idea of it is still stunning to her. Never in a million years would she have thought Cheryl would apologise first, even though she had wanted her to so badly.

  
 She takes a fortifying sip of her own wine, and breathes in, then looks back up at Cheryl. “I won’t deny that I’ve been angry, hurt about that, in the back of my mind. For a while I wanted to just forget you existed. Then I thought I would come here, and I wouldn’t even be able to be around you without feeling that hurt, that anger from that day. And I did,” she recounts slowly. Cheryl looks paler than a ghost, which is an achievement for her already.

  
“At first, until we started talking. I realised I actually wanted you to know that I’m sorry for hurting you, as well.” she sighs, thinking of what to say next.

  
“Regardless of how I felt, I shouldn’t have said those things. Now, I’m wondering if we might be able to become – friends, maybe? After all this time.” she finishes , and watches for Cheryl’s reaction.

  
Two spots of colour are rising in her cheeks. Josie wonders if she’s somehow offended her. Then she smiles. “I would really like that.”

  
Josie smiles.

  
They sit for a moment in silence, finishing the last of their wine.

  
Then a song comes on, and Josie laughs lightly, shaking her head.

_  
Regrets collect like old friends, here to relieve your darkest moments_

  
Cheryl beams, surprised. “I haven’t heard this in years! Come on, to seal this new agreement, we must dance. It’s fate.” She says, getting up and offering her hand.

  
“Fate or Spotify.” She cracks, but takes the hand anyway.

  
She wonders what she’s doing, and why she could never say no to Cheryl. Except the last time, obviously.  She quiets the suspiciously Archie sounding voice in the back of her mind, telling her _STOP WRONG WAY GO BACK._ It’s just dancing.

  
It starts as a fun dance, just them laughing and moving to the music.

_  
And I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I’m going to cut it out and restart._

  
She remembers viscerally for a second, looking at Cheryl, that she always liked that line. She remembers Cheryl dancing around to it, in her room, not the gothic nightmare that was Cheryl’s own room. This was their song, and even though it hadn’t been Josie’s kind of music at all she had loved it.

  
It happens after she lets Cheryl spin her, laughing, that they’re suddenly dancing much closer, slower.

  
She should go. She should at least stop dancing like this. That would be the smart idea. But she doesn’t. She allows Cheryl to rest her head in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

  
Her heart is beating too fast, but the wine has made her feel warm and slightly buzzed.

  
“I miss you, you know.” Cheryl says very softly. Josie catches it because she’s so close to her ear anyway. “It’s hard to forget about you when I feel like I see you everywhere.”

  
“I wanted you to come. You were the one who said no.” She says wistfully. It hurts to think about, but it also feels distant, like wondering who she would be if her parents were still together. She’s had too many experiences that have made her who she is to wonder what it would be like if something had been different before all of it.

  
“I know - I don’t regret how my life has gone since you left, I’m happy. But I hear your music come up in random playlists, or waiting in lines, and I see your face on magazines. You got away from here, but I’m not allowed to forget about you even I wanted to.” Cheryl says, lifting her head to look at her, a note of bitterness in her voice.

  
“You think I don’t have that? You might not be physically there, but I still see you everywhere. I never forgot about you. I’ve written songs about you!” Josie retorts, throat feeling tight.

  
Cheryl looks curious. “Which ones?”

  
Josie frowns. Cheryl backs off, saying “Another time.”

  
“What am I doing here, Cheryl?” She asks, suddenly tired. “You said you wanted to be real, so...what are _we_ doing here?”

  
Cheryl frowns. “I told you how I feel, how much more real can I possibly be? I can only do so much...”

  
“What do you want me to do then?” Josie retorts.

  
“This.” Cheryl says, and kisses her.

  
She returns it. The little voice in her head is nowhere to be heard. 

  
***

  
“Stop killing me dude! Ah, fuck!”

  
“Not my fault you still suck at this!”

  
“You’ve gotten better, I used to be able to kick your ass at this!”

  
“Or maybe I just went easy on you?”

  
Archie gasps in mock horror. “You _wouldn’t_.”

  
Jughead smirks, keeping his eyes on the screen. “You got that kicked-puppy look when you lost, maybe I couldn’t take it any more.”

  
Archie stutters in a combo movement, and Jughead’s character knocks his out.

  
“And that’s why you don’t allow your opponent to psych you out! Of course I didn’t just let you win, that would be madness.” Jughead taunts.

  
Archie shakes his head, a look of utter betrayal on his face. “Well, fuck. I don’t know if I feel more shocked about you letting me win or the fact that you lied about that to psych me out.” He says, then smiles. “And a little impressed. I guess journalism’s put you on a dark path?”

  
“Oh yeah, your sense of ethics gets very twisted when you’re dealing with complex issues like the town fete, or why the farmers market runs out of arugula so quickly?” Jughead deadpans. 

  
Archie laughs. “That’s a conspiracy that goes all the way to the top.”

  
Lunch had become a long lunch, which had become Jughead taking a half-day off. His boss was pretty lenient, because he rarely took unscheduled time off. Still, he had hesitated to ask – how long could they spend with each other not mentioning anything bad that happened.  Archie had been happy to hang out more, so he’d tentatively offered they go back to his apartment and play some video games – for old time’s sake – and now here he was, kicking his old best friend’s ass at the nostalgic vintage videogames they used to play. He was surprised that they were managing to get along, almost like no time had passed. When he’d first seen him, in person, he almost hadn’t recognised him, but spending more time with him it was obvious it was the same person. The same earnest smile, the same freckles, the same easy warmth.

  
“I guess I have more time to practice, what with all the parties and world tours and interviews you have to do.” He jokes.

  
Archie grins. “I mean, yeah. One time I did end up in a game battle with a Japanese games developer at a party in Tokyo. He taught me a few things.”

  
Jughead rolls his eyes, but can’t help smiling. “I hate you again, I would love to go to Tokyo.”

  
Archie laughs, in a self-aware way. “Sorry, not meaning to brag. Tokyo’s very cool, but I think you’d enjoy Reykjavik more.”

  
Jughead raises an eyebrow. “This is you _not_ bragging?” Archie grins more. “Ok, fine tell me why I’d enjoy _Reykjavik_ ,”

  
“It’s cold, so you’d always have a reason for wearing more layers than you need here.” He swats at Archie, who dodges with a chuckle. “It’s a great place for writing, very moody. Lots of natural beauty and scenery to explore, and the people are pretty chill. They don’t approach celebrities on sight usually, which is great. And yet, they believe in magical things – some of their roads are built around small hills they believe elves live in, and there are stories of how bad things have happened when they’ve tried to build through them. It’s very inspiring.”

  
Jughead is quiet, watching Archie describe it. It’s things like this that remind him they are older – when they were teenagers he couldn’t have gotten Archie to point to Reykjavik on a map, much less be interested in the local folklore. He’s lived a lot more now, gained some kind of more knowledge just from experiencing things – and apparently beefing up on his music history, as he’d found a Screamin’ Jay Hawkins record Jughead had found at a record fair and asked if he could play it. This from the boy who didn’t understand Bob Dylan or Bowie references.

  
“I’ve read about that, yeah. I’d like to visit it.” He replies, but it comes out sounding weird to his ears.

  
Archie nods, then after a beat says, “You should. They’d love you.”

  
He scoffs. “Oh yeah, I’ll just take a holiday to Iceland.”

  
“Sorry.”

  
He immediately feels guilty at how harsh his words came out. “No, I didn’t mean it to sound so, bitter.”

  
Neither of them say anything to this, so he tries to explain, carefully. “I was always planning to go on this big trip overseas after college, and I had the money saved...and then my dad, he gets behind the wheel after a few too many drinks, and crashes into a telephone pole. Luckily, his injuries were only minor, but I was afraid-“ He takes a steadying breath. He doesn’t tell this story often, but Archie was well aware of his dad’s problems. “I couldn’t take the chance it would happen again. So, I checked him into rehab. He paid me back by staying clean ever since.”

  
Archie looks so pained, it almost hurts him. “Shit, Jug. I’m so sorry.”

  
“It’s fine. I mean it’s not, fine, but it’s ok. Now.” He says, hoping he’s not about to start crying. He almost wishes he hadn’t told the story, maybe he wouldn’t feel small and vulnerable like a kid again. It was Archie being here too, Jughead had always been the exposed nerve at school and he’d always been the one getting high fives and smiles and looking perfectly like a popular teenage boy should.

  
He sees Archie almost reach out his hand, and make a fidgety gesture, then pull it away, like he wanted to comfort him but thought better of it. He wouldn’t have worried about it, when they were ten, twelve, fourteen. They used to be very tactile, it had been the way since they were little. They thought nothing of comforting touches, hugs, legs touching as they sat on the couch watching movies. But it always has to become weird, society has to intrude to tell you that’s not what boys do. Normal boys.

  
He realises again, sitting next to each other on the couch, they’ve allowed each other to forget their awkwardness. It’s the closest they’ve physically been to each other in years.

  
How had they pretended they were comfortable with each other? How had they both managed to temporarily forget what happened?

  
He moves down the couch jerkily, and Archie looks instantly hurt. Archie seems to unconsciously mirror the movement, moving back too.

  
“I guess you’re glad you didn’t come to college with me. We had all these plans to travel, and I would have let you down.” He suddenly says, and it’s like someone else is controlling his mouth like a puppet. It’s exactly the sort of comment he’s been carefully avoiding making for two days.

  
Archie looks ready to take the bait. Maybe he’s been avoiding doing that for two days too. “You know me so well, Jug. I’m that much of an asshole, right?” He says quietly, hurt.

  
 “Actually I don’t know, are you?” He retorts, knowing he could have just apologised. But the whole situation is ridiculous. He can’t play pretend that they’re still sixteen anymore.

  
Archie looks like he’s been slapped. “Ok, we’re doing this? We had vague plans to travel, maybe if we got the money, for one. And apparently you still don’t remember _I never wanted_ to go to college – or have you rewritten that in your head?”  

_  
Jughead waited outside the library. He’d been inside when he’d gotten Archie’s text asking if they could meet up because he had something important to tell him,._

_  
Knowing him though, important could mean anywhere from relevant news to Do You Think This Girl Likes Me to a photo he took of a cool squirrel._

_  
They’d managed very tentatively to stop being awkward around each other, but it was definitely predicated on them not mentioning the mishap from the road trip. Jughead’s heart had a sudden, irregular jolt of panic. That couldn’t be what this was about? No way._

_  
The clouds above were grey and thick with rain, and as he noticed them he realised he also didn’t have an umbrella. This talk was going to have to be quick or moving towards shelter pretty quickly._

_  
In the distance he saw Archie hurrying forward with takeaway hot drinks, most likely from Pop’s._

_  
He looked exhilarated, bursting with some kind of news. “Hey Jug! I was thinking we could walk home with these, I think it’s about to storm, but I gotta tell you what just happened.” He said it in a rush, almost tripping over the words._

_  
Jug took the cup he was offered. “It must be big, if you’re bringing me coffee.” He smirked, even though he felt a little unsettled._

_  
“I’ve brought you hot drinks before?” Archie replied with mild indignance. “Anyway, not important.”_

_  
They walked in silence for a few seconds. Archie seemed to be figuring out what to say. It was not boding well for him._

_  
“So you know how there was that show that I was doing with the Pussycats?” He began._

_  
“Yeah, that’s not for two days right?” He asked. “I haven’t missed it have I?”_

_  
Archie shook his head – more like an excited golden retriever than a boy. “No. But Josie said she’d invited this record producer guy to scout them, which was really cool.”_

_  
Jughead raised an eyebrow. “Hmm.”_

_  
“So, I was just practising with Josie, kind of spur-of-the-moment. And actually it was really fun. This guy had already seen them play in rehearsal, and they were great – but this is the crazy part, he came back to get something and he was watching us play from the sidelines, we didn’t even see him. And he starts clapping, and he tells us we’re what he needs.” Archie laughed, exhilarated._

_  
“Wait, he needs you or Josie?” He asked, confused. There was an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach._

_  
Archie looked puzzled. “Both of us. He wants to sign us as an act, Jug!” He said, sounding so thrilled. Not a mixture of fear or anything else. Just excited._

_  
He shook his head for a second, trying to clear his thoughts. “What about – what about the Pussycats?”_

_  
Archie’s face fell. “I don’t – I don’t know. Are you really not happy for me? This is it, this is my dream, Jug.”_

_  
He gulped, trying to sort out his feelings quickly. “It’s a dream you’ve had for like, two years. What if you decide something else is your dream?”_

_  
Now Archie looked like a retriever who’d been kicked. “Why do you have to be so negative about everything? I get that you have reasons, but would it kill you to support me for once?”_

_  
Jughead couldn’t stop his frustration bubbling up in his retort. “Why do you have to be so naive, then?”_

_  
“Naive? How am I being naive?” Archie retorted indignantly._

_  
Jughead let out an exasperated huff. “A day ago this wasn’t even a possibility! What about school?”_

_  
“Josie says since we’ve finished our finals, it doesn’t matter whether we stay or not. We’ll have done enough to graduate.”_

_  
Jughead rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “What about college? We were gonna do all of that!”_

_  
Now Archie looked sad, awkward – this fight had probably put them back to the awkward stage or worse but what did it matter at this point?_

_  
He looks at Jughead, something desperate in his eyes. “So – come with us, Juggie! Los Angeles!”_

_  
The use of his younger nickname is an unfair move, but it doesn’t sway him. “What?” He replies, both irritated and completely confused. “How – and what I am supposed to do there? Wait tables?”_

_  
“No! You –“ Archie broke off, gesturing vaguely._

_  
“You’re just going to throw away any chance of being employed well in the actual real world for this? You don’t know anything about the industry! What’s your dad gonna say?” He knew he was leaning on this angle too hard; it wasn’t even what he meant. But they were supposed to go together, that was the plan, and saying that was a bit too pathetic._

_  
“I never wanted to go to college, Jug!” Archie burst out.”I know I’m the dumb friend, that’s ok. But what would I do in college, if we even got into the same one? Discuss literature? I’ve barely got a good GPA as it is!”_

_  
Archie looked genuinely upset, his face and ears flushing red. But Jughead couldn’t stop feeling angry – Archie had always done this; he never meant to hurt people, he just didn’t think. He was sick of it._

_  
“Well you could’ve fooled me! At no point when we were filling out college applications did you say, ‘hey bud, you know I’m not sure why I’m doing this since I’m not really thinking of going, instead I’m going to move across the country on a whim! Just so you know!’” He returned, venomously._

_  
“Why are you acting like this is the end of the world? We can still be friends even if we’re not both in this shitty town for the rest of our lives, marrying the wrong people and living with all our regrets!”_

_  
Jughead stopped walking.”Because it is! You think I’m going to be stuck here forever and you’re getting out. Really, even if this deal works out for you guys, are you going to want to talk to your small town friends when you get big? And since when are you so friendly with Josie anyway, she doesn’t even like you!”_

_  
“That’s not true, we’ve been getting along pretty well recently. But I guess you wouldn’t know, because that was when you kept avoiding me!” Archie yelled._

_  
“Oh, I was avoiding you? You were avoiding me! I bet you’re glad to finally have an opportunity to finally be free of your weird best friend!” Jughead shot back, and instantly knew that it marked the end of the argument, and maybe their friendship. He felt sick._

_  
Archie looked at him, deeply hurt and angry, speechless. A few seconds passed before he said,_

_  
“Is that what you want?”_

_  
Jughead stared at him coldly, trying not to betray how sick he felt._

_  
“Joseph’s coming over soon to talk to my Dad about the offer. If it goes well, apparently it happens pretty quickly. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” Archie said mechanically, and walked off._

_  
The problem with living together is that they couldn’t not see each other entirely, but he took to sleeping on the couch in the garage, knowing he couldn’t move out but not wanting to stay._

_  
_ “Yeah well I guess you proved me wrong, didn’t you?” Jughead retorts.

  
Archie gives him an exasperated look, and rakes a hand through his hair. “I didn’t do it to PROVE YOU WRONG!” He says, voice rising in volume.

  
“YOU STILL DID IT!” He shouts back, and feels like it’s immediately too personal, like it was ripped from him without his permission.

  
There’s a silence between them. Somehow they’re both standing apart from each other now, he almost doesn’t remember how he got from the couch playing games to here.

  
“I –“ Archie begins, sounding both angry and hurt. “I – asked you to come. You were the one who – didn’t –“

  
He scoffs, derisively. “As an afterthought! And then you left without saying a thing!” It’s good to know after ten years handling emotions like an adult,  he’s immediately feeling eighteen and small and full of emotions that come bursting out at the worst times, again. Therapy has all been worth it.

  
He can feel hot in his eyes, but damned if he’s going to lose it in front of his ex-best friend.

  
Archie swallows. “That was shitty, ok – I’ve thought about it more than you’d ever think. But don’t make me into the villain, Jug, you acted like I was dead to you that whole time before I left!”

  
Jughead gasps incredulously. “I acted like that? You acted like I was some ghost you could just look through! Because you were off on your big adventure where you were going to become _so_ fucking famous, who cared about any of us back home, right? Gave you the perfect excuse to forget about us losers!”

  
Archie shakes his head angrily. “Fucking hell, you haven’t changed one bit have you? You always have to go right for that jugular don’t you?”

  
“Jugular? My, you’re learning some big SAT words these days!” He yells back. Awfully, he knows Archie’s right, but it’s like all of his anger and hurt over everything that happened that year and the distance of the next ten have coalesced into a sentient demon he’s being possessed by.

  
Archie grabs his jacket from the couch, in a furious movement. “Fuck you, and whatever we’re supposed to be doing here. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

  
“Yeah, it was a stupid idea to think I could share a room with your even-more inflated ego!” He yells at Archie’s retreating back, sees his shoulders stiffen, knowing its hit the mark.

  
He drops onto the couch, feeling a headache coming on. He feels sick too.

  
His brain is a war of “that was a long time coming, he deserved to hear it!” and “what the fuck what is wrong with you?” and also, “I’m glad we – two nearly-thirty year old men – still fight like angry teenagers, that’s great.”

  
He sighs, and wonders if he can call Betty. She might be too busy with the twins.

  
He hesitates, then types a message to Kevin. _Do you have time to talk? I could use a friend._

  
***

  
Cheryl’s room is as nicely decorated as her living room, if not nicer. It’s a much softer look than her scary, imposing gothic horror of a bedroom in the mansion she grew up in.

  
The queen bed is antique. It’s so soft.

  
Josie doesn’t have a clue what the time is, or how long they’ve been lying here, but she doesn’t really care.

  
Her phone is back in the living room anyway.

  
“You are so beautiful.” She breathes, half unaware she’s saying anything at all.

  
Unexpectedly, Cheryl blushes. She finds Josie’s hand under the blankets, and her hand is just as soft as Josie remembers. “You’re the face everyone remembers. Hard to forget.”   
She says softly, with a small, private small.

  
Josie beams. She can’t stop looking at Cheryl, and her dimples and her hair splayed out onto the pillow, looking like the muse of some kind of Renaissance painting; like if she stops looking it will all disappear like a reverse Orpheus-and-Eurydice situation.

  
She can’t help but let out a giggle at a thought that drifts across her mind.

  
“What?” Cheryl asks.

  
She shakes her head, grinning. “It’s nothing. It’s dumb.”

  
“What?” Cheryl trills, beginning to giggle too.

  
“I don’t want to get up. I just want to stay right here.” She says and giggles at how ridiculous it sounds.

  
 Cheryl smirks – her plan formulating smirk. “Do you have anything you have to do tonight?”

  
“No, but –“ she begins, only half-heartedly protesting.

  
Cheryl beams. “Then it’s settled. Stay here with me.”

  
She giggles. “Just indefinitely, or?”

  
“Yes. We’ll say we’re making a political statement like John and Yoko.” Cheryl smirks.

  
“The day I take any inspiration from John Lennon is the day my soul dies.” Josie snarks, to Cheryl’s tinkling laugh.

  
“Come here, darling.” Cheryl says, pulling her closer for a kiss. Hearing ‘darling’ from other girlfriends had always been weird for her, outdated, but somehow it suited Cheryl. 

  
Josie notices closer up that while her smile seems genuine there’s something sad in her eyes.

  
“Is everything ok?” She asks, instantly nervous.

  
Cheryl looks at her warmly, seemingly snapping out of a thought. “Of course. It’s not important,”

  
“Come on, I told you mine!”

  
Cheryl rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, and smiles. “Alright, fine. I – I was just thinking I don’t remember the last time somebody looked at me like that.” Her eyes are glistening a little as she finishes her sentence.

  
“Oh.” She says softly. She takes Cheryl’s hand again. “I know what you mean.”

  
Cheryl gets a look in her eye. “Ok we don’t have to do this –“

  
Josie raises an eyebrow, but Cheryl continues. “But I’m curious about what your life’s been like since we broke up. I’m sure you’re wondering things about me.”

  
“So what are you proposing?” She asks, bemused.

  
“Nothing leaves this room. But we have to be honest in answering any questions.” Cheryl says, looking serious. No trace of her old smile she used to have when digging for gossip. “If you’re not ok with it though...’

  
She thought about it. It really was the ultimate test if they trusted each other still. But she was warm, sleepy and happy so she found herself nodding.

  
“I mean it though – if anything I tell you goes further than this room, I won’t forgive you.” She adds seriously, looking Cheryl in the eyes. Cheryl nods and finds her other hand to hold. “I swear.”

  
“Ok...well I wanna know, what went wrong with that person you mentioned earlier?” She asks tentatively.

  
Cheryl smiles ruefully, like she’s aware she’s done this to herself. “She was a client – not a wedding, just a party – she lived in New York. I think I loved her, even, and she loved   
me...” Cheryl sighs. “She thought I was emotionally unavailable, that I didn’t let her in enough. Which, she was right – but I did try. Just not enough.”

  
“Sounds like all of my exes. I got “emotionally unavailable” a lot too, snap.” Josie replies, smiling empathetically.

  
“Perfect for each other. That was kind of good to do, in a trial by fire kind of way.” Cheryl muses. “I wanna know about the actress. Why did you stop trying after her?”

  
Josie grimaces. “Ok, I  guess I’m doing this. I can’t tell you her name, that would be uncool as I’m pretty sure she’s not out. She was the least neurotic person I dated, and she was beautiful and funny and intelligent and I thought maybe this was it. This was the relationship.” She takes a breath.

  
“She was friends with Archie, even – most of the others were threatened by him. But we moved around each other a lot, with me on tour or her promoting or filming, and we got tired. Suddenly I was mad that she wasn’t calling me enough, and she accused me of not relying on her emotionally as much as I did with Arch, when she was around. She started to get really cold towards him, and when we broke up she said that it didn’t matter how much we loved each other, because I didn’t have any more room in my life after him and the fans.” She scoffs, but she’s already choked up and it comes out weirdly.

  
Cheryl kisses her forehead lightly. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do anymore if -”

  
Josie stops her. “No, you asked a question and I’m going to answer.” She smiles softly at Cheryl. “After her, I just –stopped. It – _hurt_ – so much I never wanted to go through that again. Luckily I could just throw myself into my job, and that part of me was hidden away anyway. I wrote some songs about her, even though they didn’t sound like it. I got over it, mostly.”

  
Cheryl looks like something has occurred to her, but she allows Josie to ask.

  
“Do you ever want to leave?” Josie asks, unsure if she’s crossing a line.

  
Cheryl looks at her, surprised for moment. “Sometimes. I love working here, actually. But we’re growing big enough to expand. I have thought about opening an office in NYC,   
because while I love the exclusiveness of making people come here, we’d be able to net even better business if we could meet clients in the city too.”

  
Josie smiles slowly. It’s not like it’s an admission of love, but it’s reassuring, in a way.

  
Cheryl looks at the ceiling, and then back at her. “Who did you write _Looking Too Closely_ about?”

  
Josie looks back at her. It was a song off the album before last, mellower than her usual type, they’d written the lyrics at 4am in a hotel room in Oslo when they couldn’t sleep. “Yes. It was you. I had this dream...I woke up in the middle of the night and I had to write it.”

  
Cheryl nods, kind of proud.  “I couldn’t get it out of my head. That one line – _truth is like blood underneath your fingernails._ I loved it.” 

  
“You’re not mad I wrote about you?” She asks, kind of surprised.

  
“I think I’d be madder if I had never inspired you to write about me.” Cheryl says, smirking.

  
Josie laughs.

  
“Do you write about people a lot?” She asks. Josie allows it. She can’t think of another question.

  
“I guess...sometimes. But it’s not always just bitter breakup songs. We just take inspiration from our lives sometimes, like people do.” She replies, looking up at the ceiling. She might take a nap soon, she’s so warm and sleepy here.

  
“So you and Archie are pretty close, now?” Cheryl asks.

  
She looks at Cheryl, and smiles. Thinks about it. “I never thought – even after we left – that we’d be friends. Certainly not this close, at this age. I thought I would have left him in my dust years ago, while I became the next Beyonce.”

  
“You could’ve been though – I remember when you went solo. You were good.” Cheryl asks, a curious look on her face.

  
She grins. “I know. I just remember thinking that I was 25 and I had everything I had worked for, and I could have continued doing that...but we’d been making music together for like six years, and I _missed_ that so much more than I thought. We only really trusted each other, and somehow he became my closest friend.” She looks at Cheryl again. “Maybe you’re the only one who could understand – how lonely it is surrounded by all these people who want something from you, but none who actually care about you at all?”

  
Cheryl nods melancholically. “I think I do.”

  
“When we broke up the band, we didn’t talk for six months. It was like that, but I had no one to turn to then. It was so – _fucking_ miserable. Maybe the loneliest I’ve ever been, while all this exciting stuff was happening.” She’s surprised to find her eyes watering over this¸ but her guard is down. She doesn’t think about it much either usually.

  
“Wow,” Cheryl says softly. “I guess I can understand why you decided to put the band back together.”

  
“Yeah,” She says mistily. “Anyway, my turn. How didn’t I realise that I missed you this much?”

  
Cheryl giggles, very lightly. “Out of sight out of mind?”

  
Josie giggles sleepily, and pulls her into a kiss.

  
She can’t remember being so happy, so fulfilled in a long time. Maybe not even really since Natalie and she were together. She just wants to sleep now. Sleep in this warm bed with a beautiful girl she never really stopped loving, and deal with everything else later.

  
Cheryl watches her with such affection it almost hurts to look directly at her.

  
“I think I’m about to fall asleep, just a warning.” She says across the pillow.

  
“No, stay awake with me. I want to keep looking at you, and if you fall asleep it’s gonna be way creepier.” Cheryl says, with a soft laugh in her voice.

  
“Ok, for you, creepy.” Josie replies, smirking.

  
They lie in silence for a while, looking at each other. Sluggishly, she notices a familiar look on Cheryl’s face. One of her internal battles coming to the surface. She looks like she’s struggling with something, maybe one more question to ask.

  
“No more!” She says playfully.

  
Cheryl smiles affectionately at her.

  
She reaches out a hand to stroke her face at the same time Cheryl gently asks, “So then, have you and Archie and you ever slept together?”

  
She recoils immediately – feeling like someone’s dumped an bucket of ice-water on her to wake her up. “What?” she says, sitting up.

  
Cheryl sits up, looking anxious. “Did you? It’s not a big deal, no judgement, I just –“ She reaches out and Josie recoils, and the hurt is evident immediately in her eyes.

  
Josie feels sick. It’s like a magic trick that she can have felt so safe, so happy two minutes earlier, and now she feels uncomfortably naked and nauseous.

  
“You just what? Out of all, people I thought _you_ would get it. Fuck, you would think the last few _hours_  would – I can’t believe you’re  asking me this!” She interrupts furiously, getting up off the bed and dragging the sheet with her. She wouldn’t have bothered with it before but she doesn’t want to be naked right now any longer.

  
 “Josie, don’t!” Cheryl calls, voice shaking. “That was our deal – honesty! Just say no, and I’ll believe you!”

  
“Oh, you’ll _believe_ me?” She spits, pulling her dress on. She can’t find her bra, but as far as she’s concerned it’ll have to stay here forever. “You’ll kindly agree to believe I’ve never had sex with my friend I have no sexual attraction to?”

  
“Did you?” Cheryl replies sharply. “You could have just said no, Josie!”

  
She is almost speechless at this, as she pulls on her boots. “I refuse to play this game, Cheryl! You _know_ who I am, you’ve known since we were fifteen! I can take this bullshit from the media, but you...” Her voice wavers.

  
“Why can’t you just give me an answer? Why are you making this into a big deal?” Cheryl continues shrilly, looking wild and desperate.

  
She can go as soon as she finds her phone. She storms out into the living room, hearing Cheryl scramble for her robe and follow her.

  
“Are you just going to leave then?” Cheryl asks, frantically . “Come on, Josie, _please-_ “

  
She turns to Cheryl, who looks devastated. “Why is it so important to you?” She interrupts, with a shaking voice.

  
“Do you really not get _why_?” She retorts, with shining eyes. “Or is this just a stopover for you?”

  
She gasps. “Are you really that insecure?”

  
Cheryl looks stricken, and she narrows her eyes in anger. “Why are you so defensive, Josie? All I wanted was for us to be honest with each other! And now we’re fighting, and if it’s so ridiculous and unthinkable, why can’t you just FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

  
“BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW, OK?” she explodes, and she can’t hold in her tears any longer. Though blurry, Cheryl looks shocked and confused.

  
“You know, I thought different, but you haven’t changed at all! You _have_ to niggle, and niggle at people until you know the very _worst_ thing, and who cares what lives you ruin and who you make feel so _small_ and _humiliated_ because of it.” she’s quaking with anger now, wishing she’d never come here this afternoon, wishing she’d never come back to town at all.

  
“Did he...do something?” Cheryl asks in a very small, scared voice.

  
“No, he didn’t!” she snaps back. “You don’t get to talk, ok! You want the truth? Let me tell you what you just _had_ to fucking know, even when you knew I didn’t want to talk about it. Let me tell you about the _worst fucking moment in my life_ , and one of the worst of his too, for that matter!”

  
Cheryl looks miserable, almost afraid, but if it’s the truth she wants then it’s the whole, horrible story she’s gonna get.

  
“Imagine you’re eighteen, and you’re making your name in an industry that isn’t ready for you to be yourself, and your only friend is a boy you’re not even sure you like. Then imagine you actually get along with them, and it’s nice to think you have a friend when you’ve lost all your others, but of course everyone has to think you must be dating, or fucking, or _something_ , right? And it’s laughable, because you’re so definitely not. It’s kind of funny, at first. But it just _continues,_ for fucking _years._ And you think it’s not affecting you that much, but it ruins EVERY SINGLE FUCKING RELATIONSHIP you ever try to have. How are you supposed to keep love alive when you’re pretending to everyone else it doesn’t exist?”

  
She pauses for breath, and wishes she could stop the constant stream of silent tears falling down her face.

  
Cheryl looks remorseful, but doesn’t attempt to interrupt, surprisingly.

  
“And it just gets so you pretend you don’t need a relationship, because it’s easier. And worse, it’s not just you. It’s both of you, holding each other up, trying not to drown. It works for a while, and then by some _fucking miracle,_ you’re both suddenly in relationships! And they feel different, they feel like the ones that might actually stick.”

  
She realises at this point that she can’t accurately explain the story without telling some of Archie’s truths, and it feels like someone is squeezing her heart. How, when she has to finish it now, she’s so _angry_ and this is the first time she’s told someone else about it.  

  
She has a brief flash of Natalie, of Adam, of them hanging out together at the apartment. _You seem so – comfortable, I guess ... I feel like I am?_ Before it had gone to shit, they’d been like – grown up couple-friends. It’s a memory she looks back on bitterly now, because it was just playing house. It was childish to think they could sustain all of their egos, all four careers and lives when the rest of the world also cared.

  
She swallows, against the lump that’s risen in her throat. “It doesn’t really matter why, but that – short, happy time – that was the most subversive thing we’d done in years. But of course, we couldn’t keep it – not when we belonged to _fucking_ everyone else! And so it ends, and this time it’s different. We can’t pretend we don’t care anymore when we both saw what a lie that was. Our one goddamn defence is gone.”

  
Cheryl looks so pale, and dismayed, like she wants to say something, do something comforting but she doesn’t know how. Josie hadn’t realised how much of this she wanted to say, and can already feel her anger slipping away into an oncoming storm of grief. She wants so much to leave but she’s trapped there, and she wants to trap Cheryl, too with her words. Wants her to feel the pain that comes with knowing the truth at any cost.

  
“ And we find ourselves out with these other people we call friends – someone’s 22nd , I think they’d come to mine a few months earler? They liked to party, and we _just wanted so badly to forget_. Careful what you fucking wish for.” She says this venomously, wondering why Cheryl hasn’t attempted to throw her out or stop her but she seems to be morbidly enthralled, a forgotten look of shock on her face.

  
She doesn’t know how many drinks, how many pills it was. Too many. The information is lost, it never really came back to bite her, strangely. Maybe it had already used its sting.

  
Telling this story is doing nothing good for her nausea, but it’s like she can’t stop. It flows out of her like scalding water from a broken tap.

  
“You wanted the truth, babe?” Cheryl looks drained, but it almost seems like she blanches a little more at this. Josie feels all the hurt and righteous fury boil in her veins, bubbling up into her speech. “The truth is that I woke up, feeling like shit, in a bed with my friend and without my clothes. The truth is that I had no memory of the night, and neither of us will ever know what really happened. _The truth is that you, and everyone else’s bullshit, hetero-fucking-normative ideas about us, clearly fucked me up even more than I thought and almost managed to ruin the one good friendship I had left.”_ The memory of it all, after so long, has her shaking with anger, crying, venom punctuating each word.

  
“So thank-you, for bringing that trauma back up. I hope you got a lot out of it.” she says finally, and it’s like the words unfreeze Cheryl.

  
“Josie, I-“she says, and Josie’s heart breaks a little more for how broken-down she sounds. “I’m so -“

  
Cheryl reaches out a tentative hand, hesitating, but Josie recoils, and leaves in silence.

  
***

  
Archie needs a drink. He doesn’t want to go back to his dad’s place yet, and act like everything is fine. Or worse, tell them about the fight. It would seem so childish to them, but it didn’t feel like they could fix this one. They tried, and they just made it worse.

  
He really needs a drink. Before he left, they were all doing most of their drinking at parties, not bars. He knew there was a seedy old local, but he didn’t know if it was even still in business. It was pretty scuzzy though, he’d like to avoid it if possible. As he wanders down the street, he sees a low-light neon sign up ahead.

  
By some miracle, a bar. A fairly new looking one too, trendier for a small town than he’d expected. The sign is illuminated, but on a less bright setting, like it’s not desperate for customers. The sign says _Magnificient._

 _  
I’ll be the judge of that, sign_ he thinks.

  
Walking on, he recognises an old favourite Two Door Cinema Club song playing in the background. He can’t help doing that – side effect of being immersed in different music for the last decade.

_  
You don’t need to know what everybody’s thinking_

  
The bartender has his back to the bar when he drops onto a stool. There isn’t another person on, it seems, and the bar is reasonably filled but not busy.

  
“Could I get a rum and coke?” He asks, rubbing his eyes.

  
“Be right with you – oh my god, bro!” The bartender says, in an oddly familiar voice.

  
He looks up to see the bartender is none other than Reggie Mantle, grinning widely.

  
He laughs in surprise. “Reggie!” He sees the bar name again, and something occurs to him. “Wait – this isn’t –“

  
“My bar? Yep.” Reggie answers proudly.

  
“Holy shit, man! That’s...very cool.” He says, grinning.

  
Reggie laughs. “You haven’t done too badly...What the hell are you doing _here_?”

  
He shakes his head. “I – really don’t know.” Reggie raises an eyebrow. “Josie and I are coming to the reunion on Saturday.”

  
“Why? It’s hardly going to be the event of the year.” Reggie says derisively.

  
“Are you going?” He asks.

  
Reggie makes a disgruntled noise. “Cheryl said I could only supply the drinks if I came. She has _not_ calmed down, if you were wondering.”

  
Archie grins. “Yeah, I ran into her when I got to town, actually. She was actually nice, you know, for her.”

  
Reggie nods. “Yeah, she’s not so bad. Single-minded to a fault, though, as my dad would say.”

  
“Yep.”

  
Reggie seems to remember that there’s a reason for this sudden visit, and grabs a clean glass. “Rum and coke, right?” 

  
Archie nods.

  
“I still can’t believe you’re here. I haven’t seen you in what, a decade? Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Reggie shakes his head in disbelief as he makes the drink, grinning.

  
“I can’t really believe it either. It’s weird, like, it’s the same and yet there’s so much I don’t recognise. Things moving on, anyway.” He muses, taking the drink Reggie hands to him.

  
“Yeah, it seems a lot slower when you’re in the middle of it.” Reggie counters.

  
Archie grins. “I suppose.”

  
“You know I would’ve recognised that hair anywhere,” Archie snickers at this. “But I gotta say, it’s not like I haven’t seen pictures of you over the years, but this – not what I expected you’d look like at this age. Least not what I expected in school.” Reggie says appraisingly.

  
“What did you expect then?” He asks, with ironic humour.

  
Reggie smirks. “I don’t know – probably some clean shaven, button-up shirt and tie worker, married to someone like Betty. Certainly no tattoos. If I remember, you didn’t even like the flu shot in fourth grade.”

  
He laughs, indignant. “That was one time! I can’t believe I’ve heard that more than once this week. Am I not allowed to change?”

  
Reggie laughs. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing! The tattoos work, actually. When did you start?”

  
He sighs, grinning. “Uh, I guess I got my first one at... nineteen?” He thinks about it. “ _Fuck_ , that makes me feel old.”

  
Reggie raises an eyebrow, smirking. “You’ve ch-“

  
“If you’re about to say something about you remembering me not swearing in the past, just know like three people have already told me this.” he interrupts, long-sufferingly.

  
Reggie raises his hands, in mock-surrender. “Point taken.”

  
Someone approaches the bar to signal to Reggie. He gives them a nod, and looks back at Archie. “I gotta keep serving, but if you’re happy to chill for about another hour, we can catch up if you want. I close early Wednesday anyway.”

  
“Yeah, that’d be great.” He says, with a smile. Reggie nods, grinning, and goes to serve the customer.

  
***

  
“No fucking way!” Archie laughs.

  
Reggie holds up his hands in defense, laughing. “I swear by all that is holy, her name is Fawn!”

  
Archie cracks up.

  
“I can’t believe Moose is married, though.” He says, wiping his eyes.

  
Reggie nods. “Fuck, I know right? When did we all reach the “married” age?”

  
The bar is empty now. He’d gotten some looks from patrons, but if they knew who he was they had probably already heard he was in town, and were adult enough not to bother him. He’d helped put the chairs away, helped with the all the small tasks that closing apparently entailed. It was almost like looking into an alternate universe, a look at a job he might have done if he’d never gotten that record deal.

  
They were sitting in a booth, several rum-and-cokes deep into catching up. This was so much less stressful. No awkward undercurrent, no carefully having to choose your words, no truly bad memories, no guilt. This was better, anyway.

  
“God, I know. I swear two seconds ago I had just turned twenty, and now I know people with kids. That they had at a reasonable age.” Archie replies.

  
Reggie grimaces. “Can’t imagine that. I’m too self-interested to even think about looking after a kid.”

  
Archie laughs.  “Well at least you’re self-aware. I know too many people who _really_ aren’t. And they have kids.”

  
“Had them because it seemed like a fun idea but not mature or selfless enough to care about their child enough to be a good parent?” Reggie guesses, smirking. “I might not be selfless, but I’m not thinking about bringing a dependent human into my life, either. Christ.”

  
“You’re telling me.” Archie takes a big sip of his drink. “Kinda freaks me out that by this age, my dad already had an infant to look after. No relationship I’ve ever had has lasted long enough where I’ve ever thought of bringing a _child i_ nto the world. I wouldn’t have a clue, and he had a family _and_ a business to look after.”

  
Reggie looks surprisingly pensive on the subject. “I think my dad was only a year older when I was born. And he had the pharmacy to look after. I can’t even fuckin’ imagine it.”

  
Archie remembers Mr. Mantle vaguely, as kindly, hardworking man who always came to their football games with his wife, a pretty South Asian woman (Indonesian, maybe, he identifies in hindsight), and how proud they always looked of their son. 

  
“Is he still running the pharmacy? I remember you were thinking of doing a degree in something like that, or you used to...” Archie asks.

  
Reggie sighs. “Yeah that was the plan. I went to college, in-state, and I did a business degree and then I was going to follow it up with studying pharmacology.” He pauses, stumbling over the word. Archie grins, and he grins too, sheepishly.

  
“And to pay for it, or at least earn my tuition, I was working for my dad in the pharmacy. And I just _hated it_. I mean, I liked working for my dad, and I liked talking to customers, but I was just so fuckin’ bored.”

  
“What did you do?” Archie asks, interested. “Is that is when you left?”

  
Reggie shakes his head slowly. “How could I? You’ve met my parents...they tried to give me every advantage they could, to set me up, to make me happy. How could I do that to my dad, who needed the help, and we’d always agreed on me coming to work for him?”

  
Archie feels a pang of guilt that he buries in taking another drink.

  
Reggie notices, anyway. “Relax, I’m not judging. You had your path, and your Dad was proud of you doing it.”

  
Archie nods. “So what did you do?”

  
Reggie half-laughs. “Nothing. I tried to accept that this was what I was doing, but I hated my course, and I was so bored. I just tried to accept that this was my life from here on out.”

  
“Shit.”

  
Reggie takes a drink. “Yeah. Then around mid-semester break, my Dad sits me down. I have no clue what he wants to talk about – and he says to me,” Reggie is smiling, but there’s also some deep emotion glinting in his eye at the memory. “He says, _Reggie, I’m worried about you._ And I try to reassure him I’m fine, and he says to me, _You’ve become so withdrawn. Are you unhappy? Did someone I’m not aware of break your heart?”_ Reggie chuckles at this. “I say, _No Dad, I’m fine._ And then he says, _I think working at the pharmacy is making you unhappy. And as much I love working with my son, I’d never want you to be miserable because of it._ And finally, I say, _but you’ve done all this so I can work with you. I want to repay that.”_ Reggie pauses, looks away, looks back. “He fuckin’ says, _I didn’t do that for me, I did that for you. So what do_ you _wanna do?”_

  
“Damn, that’s...really good of him.” He says, well aware there’s a better word, more encompassing of such a gesture, but he can’t think of it.

  
Reggie nods emphatically. “I never even thought of it that way. He’s such a good guy, when I worked out I wanted to own a bar, he helped me get a loan. He’s got another guy helping him now, but I’m paying off the money he spent on the course before I dropped it.”

  
Archie takes a drink, thinking. “I’m so fucking... _grateful_ to my Dad. Even if he wasn’t perfect, he cared _so damn much._ He sacrificed so much, like your dad. That’s what I mean, I don’t think I could live up to that standard, if I had my own kid.”

  
Reggie gestures vaguely at the drinks board where the name of the bar is written at the top. “Did you know my Dad’s Dad came to America and changed his last name to something he thought sounded more Western, something he thought sounded like strength and respect?”

  
“I didn’t. That’s cool though...Guess I never thought about you being anything else but a Mantle?” Archie replies, somehow surprised. He had always known Mantle wasn’t a typically Chinese last name, but both he and his best friend, and his best friend’s sister had grown up with weird, alliterative names anyway so he hadn’t thought to question it.

  
Reggie grins, almost triumphantly. “I didn’t even realise that till I was what, seventeen? I guess my grandad died before I was born, and my Dad didn’t talk about him with me except to tell me I was named after him. I’m the second generation of my name, and even if I’m the last – this bar is my legacy.”

  
“Magnificient. Oh I get it.” Archie says, and Reggie starts laughing. He joins in.

  
“So, tell me about what you’re up to. What’s your life been like, I gotta know, dude.” Reggie asks when they stop laughing.

  
Archie sighs, still half-laughing. “It’s not as exciting as you think.”

  
Reggie narrows his eyes. “Fuck off, I want stories!”

  
He laughs. “Ok, fair. We’re kind of in a break before we have to do more shows – we just recently finished up the World Tour of our last album, and we’re just taking a bit of a breather before we start thinking of ideas for our next one.”

  
Reggie grins. “I heard it, I liked it.”

  
Archie smirks. “Did you buy my album, Reggie?”

  
Reggie rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Gotta keep the people happy. Anyway, I believe I asked for stories, bro!” He says, slapping the table.

  
Archie laughs. “What do you want to hear about?”

  
Reggie grins. “Uh, hmm, where’s your favourite place in the world? Have you dated any models? Have you met Rihanna? Have you dated Rihanna?”

  
Archie laughs again, leans back into the soft cushion of the booth. “Damn, Reg! This is a comfy fucking seat.” Reggie laughs. “One, hard to choose, but we spent a year living in London recording the last album, and visiting all the European countries near England, and that was pretty amazing. I’d love to live somewhere around there again someday?” He ticks off on his fingers. “Two, yes, but mostly I don’t _date_ models, you can’t both be flaky.” Reggie snickers. “Three, yes, a few times. I don’t even know what to say, she’s so cool. And, four, _god I wish_ but also not because I’m not worthy of her, she’s on a whole other level.”

  
It feels comfortably juvenile to talk like this – not like he doesn’t find her insanely attractive, but honestly the thought didn’t actually ever occur to him. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it, and that’s not the story Reggie wants to hear, so it’s much easier to answer how he might have when he was much younger.

  
He likes being around Reggie, it reminds of the easier parts of high school – football, popularity, feeling like a normal kid rather than a dumb kid with all these secrets and uncool feelings.

  
“So, do you date? I guess you’re away from home for long periods of time.” Reggie asks, leaning back with his drink.

  
Archie looks at him with a half-smile. “Not if I can help it. I tend to fuck it up...comes with moving around a lot.” This isn’t strictly the only reason, but Reggie doesn’t want to hear about his inability to let people in. It’s not very badass, not very rockstar.

  
Reggie watches him, appraisingly. “Then I really don’t have an excuse. But I’m not usually trying to date people. Is that bad? We’re not even thirty yet...I feel like small town people end up getting married young just for something to do, for fuck’s sake.”

  
Archie laughs, sardonically. Trying to remember how many drinks he’s had, realising he doesn’t care. “Right? Fuck...I think my parents only stayed together as long as they did because they had a kid. But she didn’t want to be stuck here, and I don’t think he ever got over Hermione. You’re doing fine.”

  
Reggie huffs a laugh, and Archie can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Thanks, man... It’s really good to see you.”

  
“It’s good to see you too, dude.” He says, drunk but genuine.

  
They’ve somehow ended up basically on the same side of the booth, even though he’s sure they didn’t get in this way. That was ages ago, he has no idea what time it is now. Late.

  
“I like your hair.” he says, vaguely motioning to Reggie’s face.

  
Reggie laughs. “I wasn’t sure about the shavey-bit but I don’t mind it so much now.”

  
Archie shakes his head. “No, no it looks great. You gotta keep it! The ladies’ll love it.” He says the last bit half-ironically.

  
Reggie gives him a funny look. “Thanks. I like your,” He gestures vaguely at Archie’s arms. “Whole thing.”

  
Reggie hasn’t turned off the bar, playlist, just turned it down. He recognises the song as something Veronica had played once for him.

_  
So have you got the guts_

  
“Thanks,” He gets out, throat feeling dry.

_  
I don’t know if you feel the same as I do, but we could be together if you wanted to_

  
“Good song.” He says croakily. They’re very close. He’s not sure he minds.

  
“Great.” Reggie whispers and leans a little bit further forward and kisses him.

  
It’s a good kiss, so he’s surprised when Reggie pulls back.

  
“Sorry, I should’ve ask-“ Reggie starts.

  
“That’s really sweet, but shh.” Archie whispers, and kisses him back.

  
“I feel like I should mention I live upstairs.” Reggie says,

  
Archie nods, smirking, and pulls him into another kiss.

  
“I feel like I should mention that I’m not really in a place for anything serious, just so you know.” He adds, feeling like it’s the right thing to do, even with someone like Reggie.

  
Reggie gasps, mock-hurt. “Does that mean you’re not gonna take me to prom, Andrews?” He whispers.

  
“Shut up, Mantle.” He says, and does it for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i always take a million years to update, but watch this space, you might get the next chapter early :D
> 
> Songs are as always pretty self-explanatory but  
> Shake It Out - Florence and The Machine  
> Bad Decisions - Two Door Cinema Club  
> Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys (a song that should really be used more in scenes where people are about to hook up, cmon TV it's been around for four years)


	9. Trembling Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, it's a miracle, I've actually got it together to post a new chapter only a week after the last one! hope you like it :) (the next week is hellish for assignment stuff though so I don't sense a lot of opportunities to write, but you never know!)

 

_Not sure if I should, show you what I’ve found, has it gone for good or is it coming back around? –_ **“Fireside”, Arctic Monkeys**

 

Archie inhales smoke and holds it for a beat, watching the end glow in the early-morning gloom. He’d once written something like “a warm blanket for your lungs” to describe the feeling. At first it’s just like a hot breath of chemicals, but it’s like nothing else when you get used to it.

  
He’d started just because someone had offered, some record label person at a party, and he didn’t want to look childish so he accepted one. They’d had to teach him, lucky it was just them on the balcony, because no one looks cool when learning to smoke. Sometimes he wonders if he picked it up simply to look ‘cool’, but he hopes not. He can’t remember now.

  
He exhales, pushing smoke out of his mouth and nostrils.

  
“Do they _teach_ you how to look sexy and dangerous while smoking in Hollywood, or is it just something you have to learn by osmosis?” Reggie drawls, smiling lazily, a cigarette of his own in his hand.

  
Archie smirks. “Yeah, it’s like a three day course when you get there. They put you in a room with all the young TV people and new musicians and stuff. It’s pricey, but it’s worth it.”

  
Reggie laughs. “They clearly gave you a sense of humour there, too. I thought I’d never see the day-“

  
Archie swats at him, not deliberately aiming. “Apparently no one thinks I was funny, then? Do people just not remember me laughing at anything?”

  
Reggie shakes his head, grinning. “No, probably more that you were too pretty to have to compensate.”

  
“So, you were fine then?” He digs, smirking.

  
“Excuse you, I was definitely fine then. I still am.” He says in a familiarly smug tone. Archie laughs.

  
They lapse into comfortable silence. Inhaling. Exhaling. Two red-hot glints in the gloom.

  
“So you thought I was _pretty_?” Archie says, mostly teasing.

  
Reggie lets out a crackly laugh. “Uh...I had such a stupid crush on you, man.”

  
Archie is, inexplicably considering where they are currently, surprised. He turns on his side to look at Reggie. “What? When?”

  
Reggie looks at him disbelievingly. “Seriously, you’re surprised?”

  
“I was a pretty oblivious teenager, in my defence.” He replies.

  
Reggie laughs, crackly-voiced, again. “That’s true. None of sophomore year coming back to you?”

  
“Really?”

  
“Really?” Reggie mirrors. “You got surprisingly hot over the summer? I kept finding ways to touch your arms in a bro-y way?”

  
Archie squints at him, then lies back with a laugh. “I only joined the football team the year before, I thought that was normal bro-type behaviour!”

  
Reggie laughs, looking at him. “The perfect cover. You knew us before that, though?”

  
Archie makes a face. “Yeah, but it’s not like I was friends with you guys. It’s not like I was bro-y with J-“ He trails off, taking a determined drag of his nearly finished cigarette.

  
Reggie gives him a moment, then says in a surprisingly non-mocking tone, “Ah. So is that why you looked like you needed a drink so bad last night?”

  
Archie sighs, and stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table next to him.

  
“I –“ He looks at Reggie, frustrated but not at him. “I was stupid to think that we could be alright around each other. It’s been ten years, we were kidding ourselves, acting like we’re the same as we were before.”

  
Reggie nods thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s easier to revert to that kind of thing than you think – look at us most of last night, bro-ing out, talking about girls, just like we used to and I haven’t seen you in the same amount of time?”

  
Archie scratches his beard growth and smiles. “Yeah, and then you kissed me. We’re not the same as we were either.”

  
Reggie smiles widely. “Ok fair enough...but as I was just saying it’s not like that wasn’t there before. We were just either too oblivious or too embarrassed to do anything.”

  
He leans into kiss Reggie again. “That’s why you never did anything about it?”

  
Reggie raises his eyebrows. “You couldn’t even figure out which _girl_ you wanted, let alone anything else...”

  
He smiles ruefully. “Ok I take your point.” His smile fades as he thinks about it.

  
“God, I need another cigarette.” He says, mainly to himself. “Do you mind?”

  
Reggie shakes his head. They haven’t slept yet, so he can feel the hangover coming but it’s not crashing in on him yet. He mostly sleeps (and often doesn’t stay long enough to sleep) with people he doesn’t, and will never get to know now – but he’s strangely enjoying being this close with someone familiar. A weird mix of excitement at the newness of what they’re doing with each other and comfort with the old familiarity.

  
He twists around to grab his cigarette from the packet on the table. Earlier, he’d lain back, panting, gasping for one and for a horrified moment he’d thought he’d left them at home. But no, thankfully, they had been in the pocket of his jeans.

  
He hears Reggie’s soft intake of breath, and he smiles as he lights up.

  
Reggie reaches out a hand and brushes a tattoo on his bicep, and trails down to one on his chest, tracing it. It’s not the first time tonight he’s done it, but he still gets a nice shiver anyway.

  
 “I don’t need to know,” Reggie begins, quiet-voiced, still entranced by the tattoo. “But what happened between you guys? You were fine all senior year and then it’s like he couldn’t even talk about you after you left.”

  
He takes a long drag of the cigarette, exhales and puts it down on the ashtray.

  
“No big mystery,” he says ruefully. “We had a pretty bad fight a few days before I left, and neither of us apologised. Then I left.”

  
Reggie sucks in a breath. “Yeah, I figured as much."  
  
  
Archie looks at him as something occurs to him. “I didn’t know you guys talked. At all. Or about me?”

  
Reggie looks unfazed, and looks back. “Yeah, we still do...We’re friendly. We were then?”

  
Archie feels greatly confused, which is not new for him, but in a way that makes him feel like a teenager without a big piece of the puzzle again.

  
“Hold up, when? I don’t remember you guys being friendly, ever.”

  
Reggie squints at him quizzically. “I mean, you wouldn’t have. We weren’t hang-out-at-the-same-table friendly, but you had to have noticed we were giving each other less shit senior year?”

  
He thinks about it. Now he does, he realises he can’t remember anything but snarky comments between them, but with nowhere near the venom in them they had previously. Of course he’d somehow missed this shift, as well.

  
“I..guess, yeah.” He says slowly. He shakes his head. “As good as we were that year, I feel like there was a lot I didn’t - _know_ going on. And I tried to ask, I was trying to not to be oblivious, but he always shrugged it off.”

  
He catches Reggie’s expression slip slightly, a flash of something uncomfortable, before it settles again into a smile.

  
He narrows his eyes slightly. “You know something, about it.”

  
Reggie laughs. “It was a long time ago. I don’t know what you want to hear?”

  
He feels a pang of guilt. “Please, Reg. I need to know if you know something – we had this other fight, about the last fight and maybe if I know what was going on with him that year I’ll know what caused the first one...” He trails off, feeling kind of desperate. Of course, a part of him knows the road trip contributed to it – but they figured that out, that wasn’t it. There had to have been something else, some bigger thing to make him react like their friendship was ending.

  
Reggie sighs. “I’m not saying I even know anything, but if I did, maybe it’s not to do with you, Arch?”

  
Archie picks up his discarded cigarette and takes a few quick drags. Thinking about it is stressing him out, but he can’t seem to drop it yet either.

  
He looks at Reggie. “I know. I shouldn’t care, and it’s not my business – but he was like, randomly disappearing for like two months, and sneaking back in. He wouldn’t ever say where he’d been. I’ve been there, what if he was in trouble, and I didn’t, again –“

  
He breaks off, swallowing, looking away. He smokes silently.

  
Reggie looks at him, looking very conflicted. “I don’t think I should tell you his secrets, is all.”

  
He shakes his head. “No, I know.” He can feel himself pressing his thumbnail sharply, worrying at the skin around his other nails again. Josie would tell him to stop. “Did someone hurt him?”

  
Reggie looks at him and sighs deeply. “Ok, I’m only doing this because you’re so freaked out, and I shouldn’t, so just...don’t worry. He wasn’t in danger, or being hurt by anyone. He was meeting me, around that time. No biggie.”

  
Archie raises an eyebrow. “Meeting you? For what?”

  
Reggie raises two sceptical eyebrows back.

  
The other shoe drops. “Oh. Right. That’s why he wouldn’t tell me.”

  
Predictably, getting the truth hadn’t actually made him feel any better or less confused.

  
He sits and digests the information. “Both my best friends, Reggie? _Fuck_.” He says, less annoyed than he is just baffled.

  
Reggie grins weakly, watching him. “I never hooked up with Veronica. Bro code, man.”

  
He laughs weakly. “Did Betty know? I mean, you both...”

  
“We weren’t planning on telling her, exactly, but she found out. She was much more chill about it than I thought she’d be though, considering. I think she was dealing with some other stuff at the time, so...” Reggie says knowingly.

  
He nods. “You mean Veronica? How did you know?”

  
Reggie looks surprised. “They told you? I didn’t expect that. I found out accidentally when I caught them making out in Keller’s bedroom during that party he had when his dad went out of town, which was pretty awkward.”

  
“Did you say something gross?” Archie jokes half-heartedly. Again, he’s feeling like the last one to know about all of this, even though he already knew about that particular relationship.

  
Reggie looks mock-offended. “I may have _wanted_ to, but I had the sense not to. Also, it’s more of a downer to do that when one is your ex.”

  
“ _Yeah.”_ Archie half-laughs. “No, they ended up telling me around the end of semester when they’d only been together a few weeks. That was a weird moment of déjà-vu.”

  
Reggie laughs.

  
“Guess I missed more than I thought.” He can’t keep a little bitterness out of his voice.

  
“Are you feeling weird about that or what I told you?” Reggie asks shrewdly.

  
He turns to look at Reggie. “Why would I? I just – needed a minute to process. I can’t say I expected it.”

  
Reggie looks like he’s choosing to accept this. “Alright.”

  
“Enough talking.” Archie says and leans over to kiss him again.

  
***

  
Archie’s phone buzzes loudly at 9:15, waking him up abruptly. He shoots an arm out, blindly scrabbling for it, thinking it’s an alarm.

  
He looks at the screen, realising it was an incoming text.

_  
Hey, still happy to come over at 10? I’m at 4/555 Jackson Ave now, can’t remember if I told you yet. – B._

  
“Fuck!” He says, louder than he meant. Reggie gives a sleepy grumble in response. His head feels like it’s full of fire-ants.

  
He pulls Reggie’s surprisingly heavy, muscular arm off him and begins to hunt for clothes.

  
Betty and him had texted a few times yesterday making concrete plans, but the fight had driven everything from his mind, and then he’d become otherwise distracted.

  
He pulls on his own pair of boxer-briefs, and realises he smells like alcohol and smoke. Which would be very rockstar-ish, but he doesn’t want to meet Betty and her niece and nephew smelling like he’s just been on a weeklong bender.

  
Reggie stretches, having been woken seemingly when Archie moved his arm. “Wow, guessing you’re _really_ not a cuddler then?” He drawls.

  
Archie takes a second from looking for his jeans to smile at him. “Usually, actually, but I’m sorry I completely blanked that I made plans with Betty in like forty-five minutes. Do you think I could use your shower though? She’s looking after Polly’s kids, I don’t want to freak them out by smelling like I passed out in a distillery that was burning down.”

  
Reggie smirks. “Sure, it’s just through that door.” He says, indicating. “Shame though, I don’t have to open for hours.”

  
Archie smirks back at him. “I know, of all the luck. Also, do you have any aspirin?”

  
Reggie smiles empathetically, looking like he could use one too. “Yeah, in the mirror cabinet, top shelf.”

  
“You’re a life-saver, Reggie.” He calls from the bathroom, praying that he can pull it together enough before ten.

  
***

  
Betty checks her phone. _10:05 am._ He’s only a few minutes late, and she can’t imagine he wouldn’t show up without at least texting an excuse. At the same she didn’t end up telling Ophelia and Charlton that he might be coming around, which was probably unfair.

  
But if he didn’t show up, she would have disappointed them for no reason, and she would never want to do that. How much was she really supposed to rely on an ex-best friend she hadn’t talked to in pretty much a decade?

  
Then she hears a knock at the door, and she instantly feels better.

  
She opens the door on Archie, looking like he’d run there.

  
“Hey, are you ok?” She asks, bemused.

  
He half-laughs, panting. “I’m sorry I’m late. I don’t have a car.”

  
“No that’s fine. Weren’t you wearing that yesterday?” She says with a small grin.

  
“Was I?” He asks, feigning innocence. “Come here.”

  
It’s nice to be able hug him again. He smells like soap, and little like smoke.

  
“You smoke now? Is that an L.A thing or a celebrity thing?” She teases, leading him inside.

  
“Like a chimney, and honestly, I can’t tell the difference sometimes.”

  
She laughs lightly. She remembers a brief phase of social smoking through college, but she’d never really picked it up.

  
Looking around, she realises how small it must seem. It’s two-bedroom, and it’s a reasonable rent, and she thinks she’s decorated it nicely. And she cleaned the day before, so it’s not depressingly messy. To him though? Her apartment might be a quarter of the size of what he’s become used to. Not that he used to care about that sort of thing, but maybe he’s changed.

  
“It’s not big, but I like it. Better than having to live with my parents.” Betty says, grimacing.

  
“It’s really nice.” Archie replies, sounding genuinely happy about it.

  
“Thanks, Arch. I try.” She’s touched, surprised for some reason he hasn’t lost that quality.

  
They stand around in silence for a moment. He looks more tired than yesterday, and his hair’s a bit messier. She doubts he’s been back to wherever he’s staying since then.

  
“So, you look like you could use a coffee. I’m putting a pot on, so?” His tired face lights up at this.

  
“God, please and thank-you.” He says gratefully. 

  
She grins, and leads him into the kitchen.

  
She’s wondering whether to ask him about it. He might not want to say anything about it, but she is too curious to not at least ask. Inquisitiveness was in her nature, and literally part of her job, so she can’t really help it.

  
Does she want to know, though? Is it even likely? The fact that she can’t answer these questions, frustratingly only makes her more curious.

  
He watches her put on the coffee, smiling.

  
“Good night?” She asks, tentatively, waiting for the kettle to boil.

  
He looks somewhat sheepish, although he’s not blushing as easily as he used to. 

  
“Big night.” He says enigmatically.

  
“Did it include that hickey poking out of your collar? That’s very highschool of you, by the way.” She says innocently, stirring the coffee. “Do you take sugar?”

  
He looks down immediately for it, and shakes his head.”Yes. Nothing gets past you, Nancy Drew.”

  
She grins, stirring his coffee and handing it to him. “Well it is my job.”

  
He takes a sip and closes his eyes blissfully. “Coffee. Thankyou.”

  
Betty brings him back to the living room, and sets her mug on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch.

  
“So, do I need to be worried?” She means it mostly teasingly, but if she’s right she also seriously means it. But it’s a very loose hypothesis. Quite a leap to make, which is why she’s not going to ask point-blank.

  
He grins. “No. You don’t have to look after me."

  
She takes a sip of coffee. “So, did you and Jug have a good lunch? He didn’t come back after so I assumed you might still...”

  
She trails off at his darkening expression and her stomach drops. Her theory was probably wrong then, and she’s not sure if that makes her more or less worried.

  
“Oh no, what happened?” She asks, trying not to sound disappointed in them. It hadn’t even been what _three days_?

  
He looks like a mixture of emotions are fighting to take precedence – hurt, regret, guilt, anger, sorrow, then his face settles into a bitter expression.

  
“We actually had a great day. Lunch was fun, and we decided to hang out more and Jug took the rest of the day off. We played video games, and we were getting along fine.” He says, quietly frustrated.

  
“And then?” She asks, apprehensively, bracing herself.

  
“And then it all went to hell. I don’t even know how. It just became a fight about the last fight.” He sighs, and looks at her. “I’m sorry, Betty. I know you probably want to hurt me right now, but I swear it wasn’t all my fault.”

  
She shakes her head. “I’m not mad at you, Arch. I was happy that you were getting along, but honestly I expected this to happen.”

And she had – not that she’d wanted to mention it to Jughead when he looked like he was actually enjoying having his ex-bestie back in town. But she knew them, she had  
known both of them almost her whole life. They couldn’t go that long when some problem was under the surface, waiting to boil over into a fight. But unlike their childhood fights, they couldn’t solve this by not talking to each other for a day, and then making up by buying each other burgers or milkshakes.

  
Archie looks miserable, but unsurprised. “It was stupid, I almost started thinking we might – be able to just be friends again.”

  
Betty pats him sympathetically. “Look, as horrible as it was I’m sure, you can’t just ignore what’s wrong. You guys have never been able to do that, ever. Not for long.”

  
He doesn’t say anything but drinks from his coffee, looking wistful.

  
“I know every time you both act like it’s unsalvageable, and maybe this time it really is. But I think you should at least _try_ to make it up?” She says carefully.

  
He looks at her with some regret. “We left it pretty badly. I doubt he even wants to talk to me, and I’m not sure I want to see him either.”

  
“Come on, when are you ever going to be here any time soon after Saturday?” She scolds, more annoyed about it than she realised.

  
He looks taken aback, and then nods. “You’re right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

  
She gives him a sympathetic smile. “I just think it would be a tragedy if you left with more regrets over this than before.”

  
He chuckles weakly.

  
She looks at him and suddenly feels such a rush of affection for him, the same kind that made her want to protect him from anything when she was much younger.

  
“Just try, ok? I have faith in you two.” She says sympathetically. Years ago, she might have put a comforting arm around him, but as much she wanted to now, it felt weird as adults who had only just started talking again after so long.

  
He smiles sadly. “Yeah.”

  
Betty hears footsteps and a voice coming from behind them.

  
“Aunt B, since I’m finished with my homework can I maybe watch a movie out ohmygod...”

  
Betty internally winces, having completely forgotten she hadn’t warned Ophelia, who was standing in front of the coffee table frozen, mouth open in shock, skin even more pale next to her copper hair.

  
“I’m so sorry, Ophelia, I forgot to tell you my friend Archie might be coming around this morning?”

  
Archie looks a little surprised, but says nothing of it. Ophelia closes her mouth, still mostly frozen, eyes whipping between them.

  
“He’s only in town for a little while and I haven’t been able to catch up with him yet, I didn’t know I’d be looking after you today when I made the plans.” She says, and hopes Archie will understand why she is having to lie a bit, or at least won’t ask right now.

  
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I came into town a bit last minute and your aunt was nice enough to fit me into her schedule.” Archie jumps in nicely, addressing Ophelia with a smile.

  
Ophelia squeaks at being directly addressed, and immediately puts a hand to her mouth, colouring.

  
Betty feels both bad for accidentally springing this on her poor niece, but much worse for having to resist the impulse to laugh at the situation.

  
“How do you...know...her?” Ophelia says slowly, in a quiet voice unlike her usual confident, friendly tone. She watches Archie tentatively like she’s seeing a ghost, or a Yeti and she needs photographic proof.

  
He chuckles, in a friendly, un-mocking way. “Actually we grew up next to each other. We used to send each other messages from our bedroom windows. Before we got phones, of course.”

  
Ophelia smiles slowly, looking like she still thinks she might have walked into a strange dream, and looks at her.

  
“Really?” She asks, as if she’s waiting for Betty to reveal this has been some weird prank.

  
Betty smiles and nods. Ophelia gasps, and then blushes again.

  
“I can’t believe you never told me you know a famous person! I can’t believe you grew up with Archie Andrews! Do you know Josie, too?” Ophelia says in a rapid stream.

  
“We all went to school together, actually.” Betty grins mischievously. “I’m sorry I never told you, it’s just to you he’s a famous musician, but to me he’s a boy who used to get nightmares from the scary stories I told him, so, not that exciting.”

  
Archie gasps, in mock-offense.”In my defence, your aunt looked like an angel child but she was _terrifying_ , and she knew how to tell a story that stayed with you.” He explains to Ophelia, who giggles.

  
“Remind me to tell you about the Halloweens we did together. When we were nine I convinced him to go as Ron to my Hermione. I’m sure I have that photo somewhere.” Betty says, grinning.

  
“Oh my god.” Archie says and shakes his head. Ophelia looks like this might be the best day of her life.

  
“I’m sorry I’m so nervous, I just love your music and I know I’m only twelve but you and Josie are my favourite band and I can’t believe that you’re in my town, just sitting here now, like it’s just _so weird.”_ Ophelia blurts out, blushing like a sunset.

  
Archie grins. “Well, once it was my town too, and I was your age here too, if that makes it less weird. But thank you, I honestly never get tired of hearing from people who like our music. I’m glad you like it, that’s why we make it.”

  
Ophelia beams. “Also I can feel I’m blushing a lot, I’m sorry about that I can’t control it.”

  
Archie chuckles, in a self-deprecating way. “Don’t worry, your aunt knows I was much worse. _And_ I got embarrassed easily. It goes away, sort of.”

  
Ophelia looks at him gratefully. “Good to know.”

  
“It’s true, he looked like a lit match.” Betty adds, to Ophelia’s giggle. “Clearly we should have tried to do this earlier, you guys are getting to be better friends than we are.” Betty jokes.

  
Archie grins at her. “Well, if your aunt – and your mom, of course – say it’s ok, I’d love to get you tickets to our next New York show.”

  
Ophelia’s eyes widen, and she looks at Betty. “You _have_ to get Mom to let you take us, please, it would be so cool!”

  
Archie looks at Betty like he’s worried he might have overstepped. She smiles and then nods at Ophelia. “I will try. But don’t get too excited yet. It does sound fun, though.”

  
“Where did you go, Felie, weren’t you going to _what.”_

  
Betty cringes, realising she also forgot about the other one. She hears Archie gasp softly, and is unsurprised. Charlton Blossom-Cooper is almost the spitting image of his father at the same age, albeit with a kinder look in his eyes. But his hair is just as deeply red, not strawberry blonde like his sister’s.

  
“What?” He asks again, and she’s not sure whether he’s reacting to the whole situation or just the gasp.

  
Betty is about to explain when Ophelia jumps in. “Ok Charlie, you’ve missed a lot, I’ll abridge it for you. Yes, that is Archie Andrews, apparently Aunt B and him grew up next door to each other, she never mentioned it but they’re friends, and also we’re invited to their concert in New York if Mom agrees.”

  
Charlie grins. Betty likes that while he’s handsome like Jason was, he’s a little goofier, and a little less aristocratic and pompous looking. “Awesome.”

  
***

  
Josie walks up to the old yellow house, wishing she’d brought a scarf because it’s colder than she expected today.

  
She really needs to see Archie, and he hasn’t returned her texts. Is he still mad at her? It’s an unusually long time for him to stay mad considering they’ve made up worse arguments in half the time. So now she’s going directly to his Dad’s house to talk to him. She really hopes he’s not mad, or this is going to get awkward fast.

  
And she needs to talk to him, because he’s the only one who’ll understand. As much as she wanted to tell it all to Mel, they might be friendly again but she didn’t think it would be fair to put all that on her. Maybe when they were teens, and they could talk about anything, but she didn’t think they were there yet. Not to mention, she doesn’t exactly want to recount the whole story to her.

  
She knocks on the front door, feeling nervous, and Fred opens it. He smiles on seeing her.

  
“Josie, what a lovely surprise! How are you?” He says kindly.

  
“I’m good. Same old, same old.” She lies, beaming. If Fred notices, he doesn’t comment, but his eyes have the familiar caring, searching look that she associates with him. She’s gotten to know him pretty well over the years, and is sometimes jealous that Archie’s Dad cares _so much_ when her own is the opposite. He and Hermione treat her like family, though, so it’s kind of like having a father that cares.

  
She takes the offered hug. It comforts her more than she would have thought.

  
“But I’m actually looking for Archie, is he here?” She asks, hoping she isn’t going to cry right here on the doorstep.

  
Fred continues to smile warmly, but his eyes look worried for her. “I’m sorry Josie, he’s not actually been home yet. I can let him know when I see him?”

  
She shakes her head, smiling. “No, I’m sure he’ll get back to me...when he gets back.” she says, unsure of how to phrase it. She knows Fred’s probably aware of what he’s doing, but she’s not comfortable saying it in front of him. It’s a little too weird.

  
“It’s so great to see you, but I have to go, I have plans with Mel...” she lies, but her smile is genuine affection.

  
Fred nods understandingly. “We’d love to see you again before you go. You should come round for dinner when that son of mine actually is here.”

  
She chuckles. “Love to.”

  
She goes to leave, as Fred says, “Josie, are you ok?”

  
She would love to tell him that no, she’s just holding it together, and break down and tell him all about why it feels like someone backed a truck over her heart, but she can’t. He isn’t her Dad, and while he knows who she is, he doesn’t know the half of it.

  
She smiles at him. “Of course. Thanks, Fred.”

  
“Ok, see you Josie.” he says kindly, as he shuts the door.

  
She walks down the front steps, and as she’s wondering what to do next, she sees someone approaching. A pale skinned, dark haired someone.

  
“Jughead?” She asks. He looks very anxious.

  
“Josie?” He says, now looking confused as well as anxious. Surely he knew she was in town? Or was he just surprised to find her coming out of this house in particular?

  
“Yes? You sound surprised.” She replies.

  
His eyes flit to the house and back to her.

  
“If you’re looking for Archie, I already asked. He’s out somewhere, I guess.” She adds.

  
He looks disappointed, and more anxious than before. “And you don’t know where?” He asks, with a hint of sardonic humour.

  
She raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like I have a GPS chip in him. He’s an adult, he can do what he wants.”

  
Jughead nods, and they stand around in awkward silence.

  
“Did you have plans?” He ventures, looking unsure of why he’s even still talking.

  
She’s surprised by the question. “No, I...just needed to talk to him.” Maybe that’s why she’s unexpectedly honest.

  
He smiles, and there’s some bitterness to it. “Yep. Me too.” He says, and begins to walk away.

  
She doesn’t know why she does it – they were never particularly close in school, even though she was friends with his group – but even as an adult he has remnants of a skinny, fragile kid wrapping himself in layers and sarcasm, trying to protect himself. Maybe it’s because she’s heartbroken, and trying to hide it, and she recognises the same exact thing in him. Something happened between them. Maybe that’s why Archie’s AWOL.

  
“Jughead!” She calls. He turns around automatically, looking confused again.

  
“I’m not promising I’m good at this, and maybe you’d wanna talk to a friend instead, but if you need someone to talk to...I’m here, I guess,” she says, unsure how he’ll respond.

  
He looks at her and he knows. She can see he recognises the hurt in her eyes. He gulps. “I’d...I ‘d like that. And I’m not saying I’m great at it either, but if you wanna talk about it, I guess – I’m here too.”

  
She nods. “Alright then. If we’re gonna do this though, I’d prefer to talk somewhere private.”

  
“I hear you.” He says.

  
***

  
“So why have you had to be looking after them? Shouldn’t they have, school or something? Is it the holidays?” Archie asks. The twins themselves had breezed out to meet some friends at the diner earlier, and she’d been secretly a little grateful for the freedom to talk.

  
Betty narrows her eyes a little, thinking. “Some kind of flu outbreak taking a few kids down – the administration panicked and gave the students the rest of the week off. Not that I don’t love a chance to see the kids, but it’s kind of been a big interruption in my schedule. Not to mention Cheryl was supposed to have them yesterday afternoon, and then last minute she begged me to take them, for some mysterious reason...”

  
She notices Archie’s expression change, interested surprise to understanding very quickly.

  
“Do you know what she’s up to then?” she asks shrewdly.

  
He grins, shrugging and raising his hands defensively. “I can’t say anything for sure.”

  
“But you know something? C’mon, you have to tell me.” She says, with a mischievous smirk. Is it totally fair to try and find out this way? Probably not, but her curiosity can’t resist.

  
“I can see that you’re in the right job, damn.” he teases her. “Ok, well all I know is that when I left Jug’s yesterday I really wanted to talk to Josie. And she wasn’t picking up...” he says cryptically, raising his eyebrows.

  
She laughs at this, and then realises what he’s saying. “She did sound really nervous about what she was doing on the phone...do you really think – Cheryl was pretty broken up too, after you guys...” She trails off, more seriously.

  
Archie looks sobered by the thought, too. “I really don’t know. Josie’s got a lot of anger there, I can’t see her making up so easily...But then again, I can’t talk. My money’s on that being where Cheryl is though.”

  
She nods, unsurprised but unexpectedly somewhat worried. Ten years of having to be in each other’s lives when they might have split off after college, having family in common, creates some kind of bond. Now she can anxious for _two_ friends, as if she’s not got enough to think about.

  
It wasn’t hard for her to figure it out, but she’d had it confirmed by Veronica – who had sworn her to secrecy about it. She’d understood why, when she’d been in the same boat.

  
“There was kind of a lot going on that last year, wasn’t there? You think that you’re the only one with secrets, but so does everyone else. All of these secret romances and crossed wires.” She muses.

  
He smiles, a little wistfully, and then his expression falls like he’s just remembered some bad taste. “Secret romances, you’re telling me... So you knew about Jug and Reggie then?”

  
She’s taken aback, since she hasn’t thought about that in years. “What?”

  
He looks at her, almost like he’s annoyed, but not really at her. “Apparently that’s where he was disappearing those times. It’s ok, I know you know.”

  
“How do you – who told you all this?” She asks, suspiciously narrowing her eyes at him.

  
“Reggie told me last night, when we were hanging out – “ he says.

  
“Damnit, Reggie!” She interjects, then something occurs to her. “Wait...”

  
He breaks off awkwardly at the way her expression changes. “Uh..”

  
She knows he could probably attempt to pretend he just hung out with Reggie and went home with some other girl or whoever, but she knows like he does firstly – she’s not an idiot, and secondly – she knows Reggie. If she was caught off guard before though, it’s nothing compared to now.

  
She gasps theatrically. “That’s why you were late? And all – Oh my god. Really? Reggie?” She asks, completely taken aback.

  
He looks at her sheepishly, holding the back of his neck with one hand like he’s trying to hide. “Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t going to say anything...” Then he seems to parse something she’s said. “Also, you _dated_ him, so you’re not in a position to judge.”

  
This makes her smile, for some reason, in her confusion. “I do remember. I guess...you could do worse?”

  
He smirks, ears still a bit red. “I mean, he was my friend too. So.”

  
There is a moment of silence. “So, you’re not surprised, then?” He says slowly.

  
She looks at him, kindly.”I won’t lie and say I totally wasn’t – but I know you. I’ve heard some of those lyrics. It’s not the biggest shock ever. Plus, that whole takes one to know one thing.” She’s half-joking, but he grins at this, looking less embarrassed.

  
“Thanks.” He says.

  
She smiles as they sit there, quiet, happy.

  
She shakes her head. “Obviously, you know I’m not judging but it’s very weird to me that you hooked up with my ex. I did not see that coming.” She’s half joking, because it’s not like she has romantic feelings for either of them now, but it’s not like she would have predicted it either.

  
“Neither did I, so I guess we’re even?” He returns, but he’s smiling like he’s only teasing her back. Or half-teasing, like her.

  
She sucks in a breath, then smiles, caught out. “Yeah, ok, fair point.”

  
He chuckles.

  
“Have you seen her yet?” He asks, gently.

  
She has a flash of the store, and outside the newsagent, and feels a wave of embarrassment at the memory. “Yes, I – uh, saw her yesterday. With her mom.”

  
“And?” He asks, in a way that reminds her their childhood, like when she was telling him a story.

  
“And...nothing. She was nice. I felt awkward. Nothing new.” She replies, trying to sound casual and not like she’s leaving anything out.

  
He gives her a look.

  
“Y’know for an investigative reporter, it’s worrying that I can _still_ tell when you’re lying.”

  
Damn childhood friends, she thinks, they know all your tells.

  
“I wasn’t lying, I just didn’t say...everything.” She says, in defense.

  
“So?” He asks, exaggeratedly.

  
She laughs. “It’s not a big thing, she just – I thought she was leaving and I would probably next see her on Saturday night – and then as her mom was leaving, she told me she was at the B&B. That’s all.”

  
He raises his thick eyebrows at her. “That’s _all._ ” 

  
She gives him a sceptical look. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  
He scoffs. “It means that she wants you to know where she is. While she’s in town. So you can come see her. That’s pretty loud and clear.”

  
She feels an unexpected rush of gratitude towards him in that moment. He was unexpectedly mature after they had finally decided to tell him that they were together, in the last month of senior year.

  
She has a flash of his younger face making the journey from confused to understanding.

 _  
“Wow, I mean I really wouldn’t have guessed, but that’s – that’s great. You’re both my friends, I just want you to be – happy, y’know?”_ He had said. _“Ronnie, this is kind of like that thing you said – you know where you feel like you’ve done something before? I think it was like, French?”_

  
In that moment she would never have been able to picture this future, her thinking of Veronica as some distant celeb, talking about her with her other celebrity friend she hadn’t seen in years. It was bizarre.

  
She lies her head back on the couch.

  
“When did it get so complicated?” She sighs.

  
He lies back too. “You’re telling me. I think it got complicated way before we left though.”

  
“I think you’re right.”

  
***  
  
  
Josie sips the coffee she brought back to Jughead’s apartment, still kind of wondering how she got here. He sips his own across the table from her and looks like he’s wondering the same thing.

  
“Well, we came here to talk, so talk.” She says directly.

  
The hint of a wry smile ghosts on his lips. “Alright then. I talked to Kevin about it, but I thought –you might actually be the one person with insight into this. I don’t know who Archie is anymore, but you do.”

  
“I mean, I’ll do my best.”

  
He nods, looking awkward and unsure of how to start. She decides to try and start him off.

  
“So, what did you fight about?”

  
He frowns. “Same thing as last time. Except now, we’re also fighting about who started the last fight, who cut who off first.” He exhales in frustration. “I definitely started this one though. I don’t even know why.”

  
She gives him a sceptical look, because she’s certain he does, but doesn’t push it. “So I’m guessing it ended pretty badly?”

  
His mouth quirks into a bitter half-smile. “You could say that. Pretty sure he doesn’t want to see me again, he was pretty angry.”

  
“Do you?” She asks seriously.

  
He looks almost surprised by the question. “I –uh, I mean I’m still angry at him too, that was really – yeah. I do.” He sighs. “Why though? I should just let this go, right?”

  
She feels a profound wave of sadness engulf her again, like an afterimage of the tsunami of grief that knocked her out cold after getting back to the B &B last night and finding that Veronica was out and Archie and Mel were un-contactable.

  
“I mean, smart money would be to let it go, before you make it irreparably worse, or you get hurt again.” She says slowly, trying not to let her voice shake.

  
He swallows, looking like he agrees. There’s something about the way he looks sad, or lonely, that’s different to Archie. It’s more like a baseline, expected because it’s always been there.

  
“But I don’t know, call me sentimental, but I don’t think you should. You know him, he reacts quickly, he hurts deeply, but _trust me_ , I doubt he wants to throw this opportunity away over some fight.” She continues, to his slight surprise.

  
“But it’s kind of insane, right?” He asks, looking at her.

  
“Never said it wasn’t. But most friendships are, a little bit.” She replies, wryly.

  
He nods in agreement, seemingly thinking. She sips her coffee. Then she thinks of something, and hesitates. But she figures, this is why she’s here, when she barely knows him. To be what everyone here can’t be – a window into the other life, the ten years not spent here.

  
“I know you think maybe he wanted to forget you, once he was on this track to be famous.” She says tentatively, watching him.

  
“Was I wrong?” He interjects, bitterly.

  
She narrows her eyes some. “I didn’t notice you trying to call either. Anyway, I get that it was all fucked up before we even left, and that’s why you didn’t talk – but as for forgetting you? He may not have been able to call you, but he never forgot you. God, why do think we’re here?” She lets out a breath, after her unexpectedly impassioned speech.

  
He stares at her with narrowed eyes, looking paler than usual (which is an achievement, as he’s already one of the palest of the white people she’s grown up around).

  
“I don’t know why you decided that a small-town high school reunion sounded like fun. You’re a mystery to me.”

  
“Don’t be facetious, Jones. He’s trying to put right his wrongs with you. That’s how I know he’s not going to give up just because you fought.” She says, a little more snappishly than she meant, but she gets her point across. He looks more subdued.

  
“And Betty, I guess.” He says.

  
She gives him a doubtful look. “I’m sure he’s happy to make things up with her. He might even say that to you, but you were the draw. And I know he’d hate me telling you, but you guys need someone to tell you the truth.”

  
He sips what’s left of his coffee quietly, nodding. “The truth. We’re too busy getting caught up in other issues to get at the truth.” He looks at her. “So, _quid pro quo_ I promised you I’d listen. What’s your truth?”

  
She stares at him, having half-forgotten he’d offered.

  
She stares down at her take away cup, formulating her thoughts.

  
“What if it’s not just a fight for me?” She says slowly. “Have you ever realised in a fight that this person who is supposed to care about you, understand you, doesn’t understand you at all? They don’t even know _why_ what they’re doing hurts.”

  
“I think you know I do.” He replies, drily.

  
She shares an understanding look with him.  They’re quiet.

  
“So...I’m assuming you went to see Cheryl, then?” He ventures, awkwardly.

  
She is surprised. “How...?”

  
He looks uncomfortable. “Bonding sounds kind of cliché, but after you guys left...she was the only person who really seemed to get it. Betty was supportive, but she was so wrapped up with Veronica ... She needed someone to talk to, I needed someone to not...pity me, we kinda...became friends? So, it would’ve been hard for her not to talk about you.” He says, watching her expression tentatively. “I’m sorry if I’m – crossing a line, admitting I know.”

  
She shakes her head. “No, I’m glad you do. That’s one less person I gotta lie to.”

  
She can feel herself already welling up in her tearducts, but she pushes it down.

  
“What did she do?” He asks carefully.

  
She feels a flare of nausea, and panic thinking of it. “I can’t...I’m sorry, I just – it was over something very personal.”

  
He nods, probably understanding humiliating personal drama better than most, she muses.

  
He gives her a sad, but understanding look, and sighs. “I don’t need to know what she did. But...” He pauses, like he’s thinking. “She might do a lot of crazy shit, and I used to not understand it at all...but I started to realise, worryingly, we’re a lot alike. So if she’s acting inexplicably horrible, provoking a fight, or whatever...”

  
Josie feels her eyes brimming with hot tears. She scoffs dismissively.

  
“- It’s probably because she’s afraid. Pre-emptively striking, because she knows you’ll leave, like everyone else.” He says, looking annoyed, voice almost shaking.

  
It made a certain sense now that she thought about it – they certainly were linked by trauma, mirroring each other on separate ends of the scale.

  
If only she could talk herself into understanding, she would. “That doesn’t make it right though.” She says, and all she can feel is hurt.

  
He nods at her, slowly, understanding. “I guess not.”

  
***

  
 “So Jacob’s invited us to sleepover, can we please go?” Ophelia says excitedly.

  
Betty looks at her niece and nephew, looking winsome and excited. “What about your mom? She’ll be getting off her shift and she’d want to see you.” She reminds them.

  
Their faces fall in unison, and Betty thinks it’s unfair how much children can manipulate your emotions. Small things are the biggest disappointments to them because they don’t know any better yet.

  
“Of course we want to see Mom, but she’ll be really tired when she gets home from the hospital. It’s not like we’ll get to do much hanging out with her.” Charlie reasons.

  
She frowns, but it becomes a smile. They know she’s a softie where they’re concerned.

  
“Ok fine, I’ll tell your mom. I guess you gotta take advantage of the break.” She relents, and the twins cheer.

  
“Thanks, Aunt B!” They chorus, hugging her.

  
“Do you need a lift over there? It’s a long walk.” She asks.

  
“That would be great – if you don’t mind.” Ophelia says politely, and Betty laughs.

  
“Of course not.”

  
*

  
She drops the twins off and finds herself driving aimlessly around. She should really just go home and catch up on some work.

  
But she doesn’t. She drives past the elementary school, down Watford, makes a right on Mitchell, gets onto Mapletree Rd, passing Pop’s on the right. This is the road that leads out of town, although it goes on for ages, passing by Sweetwater River as it does.

  
She drives along it, feeling almost like she’s not the one driving. Like she’s sitting in the passenger seat, wondering where the driver is taking her.

  
She sees the quaint brick building, and pulls into the car park of the Baker B&B.

  
Suddenly she’s aware that she did this. It wasn’t some phantom spirit that drove her here, it was her.

  
This is a bad idea. This is definitely a bad idea. She might not even be here, and that would be humiliating.

  
She almost baulks at that thought. But, maybe fatally, she can’t help being curious.

  
She takes a breath, and steadies herself. She turns off the engine, and gets out of the car.

  
Asking old Mrs Baker which room it is, is slightly embarrassing, but she deals with it. Mrs Baker had known them as teens, she knew they’d been friends.

  
She feels less confident as she walks up to the door. In fact she feels sick, not sure if she wants Veronica to be there or not. Not sure what would be worse.

  
She knocks.

  
There’s no noise. This was a mistake, she should go.

  
Then, the definite sound of footsteps inside. This really was a mistake, she should go.

  
The door opens. Veronica looks as devastatingly beautiful as she did yesterday. She’s still wearing the glasses, so perhaps they really are for reading.

  
She looks stunned, and doesn’t say anything.

  
“I – I figured you wouldn’t have told me you were here, if you didn’t want me to say hi, but I realise now I didn’t give you any warning, and I’m probably interrupting you in the middle of something, I can –“ She says quickly, regretting the decision to open her mouth.

  
Veronica shakes her head, making her dark hair fall over her shoulders. “Hold up, Betty – I’m not busy. Don’t go.”

  
She steps aside to let her in. There’s what looks like a script open on the bed. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your reading,” She says, nodding at it.

  
Veronica smiles. “My agent sent it over, I was just reading it because I was bored.”

  
“Cool.” Betty says, feeling awkward.

  
It should be fine. It’s been years, she should be able to act normal, like two mature adults who can be civil and acknowledge their shared past without going into it.

  
Yeah, likely. It would be awkward even if her ex hadn’t gone and become a celebrity, resetting the power balance between them again. Although, it’s not surprising – Veronica was always beautiful, charismatic and dramatic, and people want those qualities in an actress.

  
“Come sit.” Veronica says warmly, sitting on the end of the bed and patting the space beside for Betty to join her. Almost on autopilot she does it, and hates that she’s still swayed so easily by Veronica’s confidence.

  
They sit, smiling awkwardly, in silence.

  
“So...not that it’s not a lovely surprise but...why did you come over?” Veronica asks.

  
Betty gives her a searching look. “Why did you tell me where you were staying?”

  
Veronica looks almost surprised for a second, then she smiles. Not the more practised public one, but the one she used to have when it was just them, less showy but incredibly fond. Betty almost melts then and there. Why did she think she could come here and be cool? What a ridiculous thought.

  
“I wanted to see you – I don’t know if I’m being unfair to you, but even before everything – you were my best friend. My first friend here! So at the very least, I just wanted to catch up with you as a friend.”  Veronica says, impassioned but still smiling.

  
She was always good at persuasive speeches, good at getting people to go along with her plans. Not for the first time, Betty’s not sure which way to move.

  
“Alright.” She says slowly. The thought that they might not acknowledge the relationship hurts, but also, the thought of talking about it now, here, fills her with panic.

  
“So...how have you been?” Veronica asks gently.

  
She thinks about it. How to answer? Seven years at the Chronicle, almost. Three serious relationships. Three painful breakups. Nine birthday parties for two red-headed children. Nearly ten years of distance. How to fit all that time into a reasonable answer?

  
She smiles politely. “Fine. I’m at the Chronicle now, with Jug. I like it.”

  
She can see Veronica’s a little disappointed at her pedestrian answer, but what was she expecting? She’s not sure what to tell that can compete with anything in Veronica’s once-again glamorous and unrelatable life.

  
“That’s good. I always thought you’d be a journalist. ” She tries, her eyes searching. For what? Some connection they had once had? But already by coming here, Betty has fed it. Try as she might, she can’t pretend it’s not there, and yet she can’t let go yet. Logically, there’s every chance that to let those emotions back in, even a little, leads to only bad things. As she’s just seen proven with Archie and Jughead.

  
“It’s not the biggest thing, but I enjoy the work. I like working with friends. I like being able to live in town, close to my other friends. I guess that seems pretty small town to you, though?” She says, half-joking.

  
Veronica looks sincere and serious at this, though. “No, that sounds pretty nice. There’s so many people I’ve fallen out of touch with just because we move around so much. Hard to keep the friendship on a deeper level. It sounds...comfortable. Sometimes I miss that.”

  
There she goes again, being disarmingly sincere. Since day one, no matter how much she might have wanted to hate this new girl, who swept into her life right at the point she thought she could predict how it would go on, and changed everything. She should’ve been unsettled by a beautiful girl in an expensive-looking cape, making her best friend look at her the way he’d never looked at her. Worse, the way she looked at her, not in her experience how beautiful, wealthy girls had looked at her before. She couldn’t even blame him for being stunned, her gaze was magnetic.

  
And Betty felt, at the time, that a girl whose frame of reference was more _Gossip Girl_ than _Gilmore Girls_ , wouldn’t want to stay friends with her. But she turned out to be so sincere, so invested in their friendship. It was hard to stay guarded around that.

  
“It can’t be all bad though. I’m sure you’re up to much more exciting things than I am.” She counters, already feeling herself caving.

  
Veronica smiles, a little ironically. “Yeah, I guess. I’m trying to figure out what my next project should be.” She turns to lean over and grab the script from the top of the bed. “It’s a play. Apparently the writer would love me to be in it, but I don’t know yet.”

  
“Is it not that good?” She asks, interested in spite of herself.

  
“No, I mean, from what I’ve read I really like it...it’s hard to explain.”

  
“Can I see it?” She asks. Veronica hands it over.

  
She flips through it briefly. “And they want you to be one of the protagonists?”

  
Veronica nods. “It’s a good role, actually.”

  
She looks up from the script. “So what’s complicated?”

  
Veronica sighs. “I haven’t done theatre in years, and it’s so much more intense. You can rehearse all you want, but if you fuck it up on stage that’s what people will remember.”

  
Betty smiles, bemused by this. “The Veronica Lodge I knew wasn’t scared of anything. I’m sure you’d be amazing.”

  
Veronica laughs, and it’s viscerally familiar to her. It lights up her whole face with warmth. “Ok, I admit it, I’m a little afraid of making the jump again.” She looks at Betty, familiarity and warmth emanating from her gaze. “You’re right though. If I like the rest of it, it might be good to have a change. You’re usually right.”

  
Betty chuckles. “It’s a burden.”

  
Veronica takes off her glasses, and she seems to be hesitating, something wistful in her eyes. “I know you might not want to hear this, but I can’t – leave without saying it. I’m so sorry for what happened.”

  
Betty had been preparing herself for a number of outcomes to this visit, but somehow hearing this apology hadn’t made the list.

  
She takes a moment. “It’s ok. Well, it wasn’t ok...but, we were kids. Long-distance wasn’t for us.”

  
Veronica looks truly remorseful, and shakes her head. “No, don’t – all I can say is that I’m sorry I was selfish, and that whole thing with Marcus – “

  
“It’s alright, you weren’t actually cheating on me.” She says automatically, then with more feeling. “I’m sorry that I overreacted there. That wasn’t fair.”

  
“I wasn’t fair to you about that. I never wanted to do anything about it, but I liked him, I know you realised that” She continues, impassioned and apparently determined to not let herself off the hook.

  
Betty nods, unable to rebut this, feeling a lump rising in her throat.

  
Veronica catches her gaze, eyes misty. “Most of all, I’m sorry I hurt you, B. I – hate – that I was a reason for that. You don’t have to forgive me, but I just – wanted to tell you.”

  
She can feel herself tearing up, and it’s different to shouting at Archie. She was angry at him, but there was less to explain here. There were so many times she wanted to get angry at Veronica during the long-distance period that preceded the end of their relationship, but right now she just felt so, _sad._ Sad that it had ended. Sad that they hadn’t been mature enough to make it.

  
“V, I know I hurt you too. I’m sorry.” She says softly. “But we had some good times, right? It wasn’t all bad.”

  
Veronica wipes her eyes, and smiles weakly. “That summer before college was pretty amazing. I mean, despite the other drama.”

  
Betty is viscerally reminded of heat, sunny picnics by the river, reading in the sun with Veronica’s arms around her. It makes her breath hitch the way the memories hit her. Even then it was weird, she was on such a high, so in love, while she knew Jughead and Cheryl were quietly devastated.

  
“Yeah, it was,” she breathes. Veronica reaches tentative fingertips towards her hand. She doesn’t pull her hand away. Her heart beats fast. Like before, the world falls away, it  
doesn’t exist beyond the two of them.

  
Veronica takes her hand. “Stay here with me for a while?” She asks softly.

  
Which is how Betty finds herself lying opposite her ex-girlfriend, hands still intertwined, looking at each other. She doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to deal with anything else. Time doesn’t exist here.

  
“Can I tell you a secret?” She whispers. Their faces aren’t that far apart anyway.

  
“Of course,” Veronica whispers back, with a conspiratorial smile.

  
She pauses. “I sent some work into the New York Times, along with some freelance pieces I did, in response to a job ad, and I didn’t really expect anything to come of it. But they want me to come in for an interview in a week.” She breathes. Getting that secret off her chest feels really good, actually.

  
Veronica looks surprised, then delighted. “B, that’s amazing! Tell me you’re going to go?”

  
She frowns a little. “I don’t know. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

  
“Why not? They’d be so proud.” Veronica says, like she knows this for a fact.

  
She looks down. “I’m worried about Jug. I’m so scared he’ll think I’m abandoning him here. I don’t know if I can bear to do that.” She looks up, feeling anxious just thinking about it.

  
Veronica looks concerned. “Betty, I get it. He’s lost a lot here, you don’t want to add to that...but are you going to do that forever? I know that he wouldn’t want you to limit your aspirations.”

  
She sighs. “I know it’s small here, but it’s not a bad life. Maybe I don’t want to leave. I’ve got two little nieces and nephews who I love to bits, not to mention Polly.”

  
Veronica smiles at this. “I know. But it’s not like New York is _that_ far. You could still visit on weekends.”

  
She grins, scrunching her eyes up in some kind of amused frustration. “It’s just one interview. I might blow it.”

  
“Unlikely. They’ll be blown away.” Veronica says, matter-of-factly, with a more mischievous grin. It fills Betty’s stomach with a nostalgic flare of warmth. It’s been a while since she’s felt that.

  
“Plus, maybe if you get it you could visit me when I’m not on location or in Los Angeles or wherever.” Veronica adds, quieter, stroking Betty’s hand in hers with her thumb.

  
“I’d like that,” She says, with a slow smile. “I’ve really missed you.”

  
Veronica’s eyes are glistening, but she looks so unselfconsciously happy. “You don’t _know_ how much I’ve missed you, Betty Cooper.”

  
Betty moves close, still looking at her.

  
“I’d really like to kiss you, now.” Veronica whispers.

  
“I’d really like that too.” She says, smiling and Veronica takes her face in hand, very gently, and kisses her.

  
Her whole body feels warm, and all she can think is that this is how it’s supposed to be. This is home, and she thought she was happy, but she was missing this without realising it, like it’s a part of her physically.

  
Then she rolls over and feels something tiny and hard digging into her back. “Ow, what is that?” she exclaims, pulling away.

  
 Veronica looks confused. “What? Is it too much? We can –“ Veronica starts, but pales under her tan skin as Betty finds the offending object and looks at it.

  
No wonder she’d felt it, it’s a ring with a cartoonishly large diamond set in it. She keeps thinking it’s costume jewellery, but the way it glitters reminds her it’s real. She’s never even seen a diamond ring in reality, let alone one this big.

  
“Betty, wait, before –“ Veronica starts.

  
“Why is there a – this is an engagement ring, oh my god.” Betty says, horrified. Somewhere she’d known that, she’d read that hadn’t she? Yet her brain had kindly let her forget all about it.

  
“No, Betty, it’s complicate – “ Veronica says emotionally, reaching out for her.

  
Betty recoils, dropping the ring in front of her. “Complicated? How? Your hand got tired of the weight, so you left it to rest on the bed? You’re engaged, oh my god, I’m so stupid.”

  
She gets up, feeling like she’s been shocked.

  
Veronica moves with her, tears in her eyes. “It’s not that simple! I don’t know that I want to get married, and I think this is why!”

  
Betty feels stung, can feel herself starting to cry as well but she doesn’t care. “Oh, so I can be here while you figure out whether you love your boyfriend? That’s so _fucked up_ , Veronica!”

  
“It’s not like that, you know I wouldn’t do that! I didn’t expect this before I came back here, I just wanted to see you!”  Veronica pleads.

  
“Except that you _did, Veronica._ And I get sucked into this thing you do, every time, and I get hurt everytime!” She shouts.  She’s angry now. More than that, she feels –  
_humiliated._ “I swear, you and Archie. You never _mean_ to hurt people, but you do anyway! You don’t think, you just do!”

  
Veronica looks devastated. “I’m sorry, I know I should have told you but it’s different with the people I’m around! Asking someone to marry you isn’t the same as it is with normal people, it’s like something to consider! And I know now that I don’t want it, I want you!”

  
“I don’t really a give a shit about “your people”! Just leave me the hell out of your _insane, fake, famous bullshit world._ I’m done with this.” She says furiously, bitterly proud that she’s managing to get all the words out clearly when she can barely see for crying.

  
Veronica looks frozen, devastated, and doesn’t stop her from leaving. She passes the front desk but doesn’t care if old Mrs Baker sees her like this. What does it matter, now?

  
In the car park, her stomach jolts as she makes a tall redhead out through her tears.

  
“Betty? What’s wrong?” He says, sounding worried. She wipes furiously at her eyes, noticing he looks miserable, too.

  
“I can’t, Arch. I can’t.” She says hurriedly, not looking at him as she looks for her keys.

  
“Betty!” He says, behind her, as she gets into her car.

  
Why did they have to come back?

  
All of them were so _selfish._ Goddamn celebrities.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no songs in this one, i guess? first time for everything!
> 
> also i'm considering writing some senior year one-shots after this is finished, let me know if this a thing that anyone would be into :D


	10. (Don't Let This Be Our) Final Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! i'm very keen for you to read this one, and I hope you like it as much I liked writing it! :)

 

_If I could give all my love to you  
I could justify myself  
But I'm just not coming through_

_You're a pill to ease the pain  
Of all the stupid things I do  
I'm an anchor on the line  
Of a clock that tells the time  
That is running out on you_

**“If I Could Give All My Love”, Counting Crows**

 

Archie looks down at his phone, anxious. He’d worried about it for an hour or two after leaving Betty’s apartment, before he even got up to courage to dial. He had half-expected Jughead not to pick up, and he wouldn’t blame him for it.

  
But he seemed to want to talk, even though he sounded as nervous about it as Archie felt.

  
They had decided against Pop’s – comfortable, but too public. When he’d gotten home, his Dad had gone to work, and so had Hermione so they were meeting here to talk.

  
Now he’s sitting here, trying to think of what he’s going to say.

  
It had been a pretty bad fight. At the time he’d been so angry he’d really thought that was it for them, that it had been a failed experiment. But as always, the anger faded and guilt set in. And it seemed pretty important to Betty that they talk. So here he was, trying to give this another shot.

  
He hears a knock at the door and his stomach lurches. It was ridiculous to be this anxious, he’d been in more nerve-wracking situations than this, hadn’t he?

  
He opens the door, and sees Jughead with a carefully neutral expression. “Just warning you, I’ve only got my lunch-hour.”

  
“I really appreciate it, Jug.” He says, meaning it.

  
“Do you want a drink? We’ve got coffee, and I think, many kinds of tea, but they might be Hermione’s...” He says, almost just to fill the silence, leading them into the living room.

  
Jughead shakes his head. “Uh, no I’m, fine. I’ve had like two coffees already.”

  
Archie smiles slightly at this, almost involuntarily.

  
“So...” He begins and trails off.

  
Jughead raises an eyebrow. “So...” He repeats.

  
Archie runs a hand through his hair, mostly to keep from worrying at his nail beds with a sharp fingernail.

  
“I know things got out of hand yesterday. I wasn’t sure you’d even want to talk. But as Betty reminded me, I’m not here long. I wanna be able to talk to you. About the fight, or whatever you want.” He says, hesitant but not looking away from Jughead.

  
Jughead nods a little, and doesn’t say anything.

  
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk...but I kind of got some unexpected advice before work. From Josie, actually.” He looks as surprised as Archie feels by this.

  
“Josie? When – ok that’s not important. I’m – I’m sorry about yesterday.” He says, remembering that they have a time limit.

  
Jughead looks more surprised at this. “I – I shouldn’t have started it. I think I was trying to provoke it, I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

  
Archie might not have seen him in ten years but he remembers what his old best friend looks like when he’s not telling everything. But he doesn’t push it.

  
“I’m sorry that we stopped talking – it’s my _biggest_ regret, and believe me I’ve had time to build up a whole damn lot,” he gets out. He hadn’t even been planning to say it, but he can’t help it. It’s more emotional than he meant to get right now.

  
Jughead looks caught off-guard, speechless again.

  
“I’m...maybe if I hadn’t been stubborn, I would have called. I should have called.” He says slowly, like each word is a little bit painful. Not devastation but a series of small stings.

  
Archie sighs. “I don’t blame you for that. I left, I was stubborn enough to – I wish we’d talked more before I left. I was trying to be better at that.”

  
Jughead nods, an infinitesimal action. “You...were better at it, that year. It meant a lot to me.”

  
Archie feels himself smile ruefully. “Still didn’t help when it mattered.” He feels a pang of remorse, again. “I wish you’d felt like you could tell me the important things.”

  
Jughead looks puzzled, vaguely suspicious at this. “Of course I did.”

  
Archie looks at him, a little disbelieving. “Really? You trusted me with knowing what was going on with you all the time?”

  
Jughead looks more suspicious now. “What are you trying to say, Archie?”

  
He doesn’t know. The Josie-sounding voice in his head is telling him to drop this because it’s going to lead to another fight. But another voice wants to know, has to know why Jughead is now acting like there isn’t a whole part of his life he didn’t tell him about.

  
“I’m not trying to start anything, but we were living together, Jug – I knew when you were sneaking away to do something, and I was worried you were in danger! No-one noticed when I used to sneak out, and it’s not like I blame my Dad but, _God,_ I wish he had –“ He breaks off, breathing deeply. He feels like his sentences keep getting hijacked, coming out more intense than he wants them to.

  
Jughead pales, but looks defensive. “I wasn’t in danger. Not like that, like I told you. Why does it matter?”

  
Archie sighs in frustration. “You could’ve just told me about Reggie!” He snaps, and immediately regrets it. Hopefully he hasn’t thrown Reggie under the bus here too much.

  
Jughead’s face changes from defensiveness to shocked confusion to anger fast. “How did you – Damnit, Reggie.” He says, seemingly having guessed it was unlikely that Betty told him.

  
“I would have been ok with it, Jug – surprised, sure, but at least I would have known not to worry about you!” Archie says exasperatedly, realising that he should maybe have tried to work through this with Reggie or someone before he talked to Jughead again, because he can’t stop now.

  
“Is that what this is about? It’s not like you told me every aspect of your life,” Jughead bites back, and it hurts whether he meant that or not.

  
“Because you usually found out my secrets before I could tell you!” He retorts, stung. “We were supposed to be best friends, and I know I wasn’t perfect but I was fucking _trying,_ and you couldn’t even tell me that. You were my best friend, and it was important!”

  
Jughead makes a choked off noise of frustration. “God, Archie, you were a part of everything! Maybe I needed – something of my own. My own secret. That you weren’t a part of!”

  
Jughead looks acutely uncomfortable, and has folded his arms protectively in front of him. It’s a very familiar gesture, but it only reminds him of other fights.

  
Archie doesn’t know what to say to this.

  
“Well that’s just _fucking great_ , Jug! I can’t win – I wasn’t in your life enough, I was in your life too much, I don’t know what I was supposed to _do_!” He explodes. It apparently doesn’t matter how much he plans, or wants to avoid a fight, they fall back into it everytime.

  
“I don’t know!” Jughead shouts back. “Fuck, though, is it any wonder I didn’t tell you? After the roadtrip?”

  
There is a silence. The dead silence after a nuclear bomb rips through a town and destroys everything in its path.

  
It was like a game of chicken, almost, who was going to bring it up first. How long could they go on without resorting to the nuclear option, the most painful thing?

  
Jughead looks almost shocked, too, like he hadn’t meant to. But it’s out of the box now.

_  
The lake was beautiful, worth the three hour drive to get there._

_  
It was a bit isolated, but there was a general store in close driving distance, so they weren’t completely cut off from civilisation – they had barely any phone connection out here, but it was ok at the store, which is where Archie had called his Dad to say they’d arrived safely._

_  
He was in love with the scenery, even though it was like home it was also different. Wilder._

_  
They’d been spending the last two and a half days either relaxing, swimming, or hiking – like when his family had brought Jughead along sometimes on camping trips. Jughead had of course, complained about the constant hiking, smiling as he did._

_  
He liked the hikes a lot, but his favourite times where when they were just lying around in the sun by the side of the lake. He’d never been the reader Jughead was, but he’d been feeling extra inspired lately – maybe by the scenery, or the sun – and he would write lyrics down, and Jug would sit across from him propped up against an old tree with a wide trunk, writing in an actual notebook._

_  
He’d ask what he was writing, and Jughead would smirk and say “Maybe when it’s finished I’ll show you.”_

_  
Out here, it felt different. Better. Not that the year had been terrible, but there was a lot going on that Archie was glad to be away from for a few days._

_  
Not bad things, all, just things that played on his mind. Stressful things. Finals were coming up in a few weeks, and yet they felt distant and unimportant in the beauty and stillness of the lake and the mountains._

_  
They were eating dinner at the fire they’d made, revelling in the warmth. Even in summer you didn’t want to be in the woods without some way of keeping warm._

_  
“What do you want to do tonight?” Jughead asked. “It’s our last night.”_

_  
Archie groaned. “Don’t say it! I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow,” he looked at Jughead. “Hey, Jug, what do you think my Dad would say if I told him I was going to move here and become a woodsman?”_

_  
Jughead laughed. “Without the internet? You would be back within a week.”_

_  
“Hey, I could make it out here! Don’t laugh!” he said indignantly, but he was laughing too._

_  
“We could play...scrabble?” Jughead suggested, and Archie blew a raspberry._

_  
“Boo! Not that, you always beat me. It’s so boring.” he complained, and Jughead laughed._

_  
“Surprisingly I never get bored beating you,” he said, eyes glinting in the firelight. “Ok, I have an idea. But it’s just an idea.”_

_  
Archie perked up. “I’m listening,”_

_  
Jughead rummaged around in his bag, pulling out a small plastic Tupperware container._

_  
Inside looked like cake or something chocolate and cake-related._

_  
“I’m all for dessert, but I meant more how are we going to enjoy our last night here in this paradise? Before we have to go back home and back to school?” Archie asked, cocking an eyebrow._

_  
“Shh, Ye of little faith.” Jughead said, causing Archie to look even more confused._

_  
“No idea what that means.”_

_  
Jughead gave him a long suffering-look. “It means shut up and listen. A friend of mine was baking some brownies, and asked if I wanted any for the trip – “_

_  
“Who? I know all your friends?” Archie interrupted. “Who’s baking things for you?”_

_  
Jughead gave him an even more long-suffering look. “Archie, if you don’t stop interrupting I won’t give you any. Anyway, it’s a friend from work. You don’t know him.”_

_  
Archie didn’t interrupt, but was still suspicious. Maybe it was one of Jughead’s dad’s friends, although he hoped not. And he couldn’t see them cooking him brownies._

_  
“Anyway he was making special brownies, and I was going to just eat them on my own, but I figured it might be an experience to eat them out here. Certainly something I could write about.” Jughead said casually, watching Archie carefully._

_  
“Special, like they’re that fancy unsweet chocolate, because I know you like that better than I –“  Archie started but Jughead gave him such a Look that he immediately realised his mistake._

_  
“Oh. Ohhh. How does your friend even know how to make that?” He asked, surprised._

_  
“They’re resourceful.” Jughead replied cryptically._

_  
Archie gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure? You never drink, I thought this wouldn’t really be your...thing.”_

_  
Jughead looked into the fire, then back after a moment. “Thanks for – thinking of me...I know I don’t want to get wasted at a party like you guys but – writers have to be able to have experiences. And it’s not like it’s that strong, he – my friend – said to only eat half one at a time. It’s not like we’ll get wasted. But I get it if you don’t want to.”_

_  
Archie thought about it for a second. It did sound like a more fun way than learning how to smoke. “Well if you want to, let’s do it.” He said, grinning._

_  
Jughead smiled. “Honestly, it might do nothing.”_

_  
*_

_  
“No, it’s like the bigness-“_

_  
“The bigness?” Jughead snickered._

_  
“Shut up, you know like, everything, around us and we’re so, so small – inside, inside it all, like I don’t know, I don’t even...” Archie expounded, looking up in awe._

_  
Jughead collapsed into laughter, and set Archie off again too._

_  
They were lying on the hood of the truck, with the blanket under them, looking up at the stars. The sky was unbelievably huge, and so impossibly beautiful._

_  
“I feel like I could just...sink into the background, like I feel like I’m good at doing that, you know?” Jughead half-whispered, slowly. “You know what I mean?”_

_  
Archie considered it, then shook his head. “Nope.”_

_  
He couldn’t help laughing, which made Jughead laugh._

_  
“Don’t sink into the background, Jug.” Archie said earnestly, smiling. “I’d miss you too much.”_

_  
Jughead smiled, looking up. “Ok.”_

_  
“Hey do you know any of those star- things?” Archie asked._

_  
“Costell – constellations?” Jughead asked, wincing as he tripped over the word. “Yes...but I can’t think right now.”_

_  
Archie pointed lazily at a outline of stars. “We’ll name them ourselves! That one looks kind of like a ponytail, if you squint. That can be Betty.”_

_  
Jughead laughed. “Ok.” He squints up at the stars. “That section looks like a K, that can be Kevin.”_

_  
Archie laughed. “That one group over there looks like pearls, that can be Veronica.”_

_  
“This is so dumb,” Jughead said fondly._

_  
“Well I’m having fun.” Archie replied, smiling widely. He looks up into the sky, squinting. “You know even the Betty and Veronica stars are together, and we picked them. Guess it’s fate.” He laughed, a little off-kilter._

_  
“Huh. They are.” Jughead replied, looking up. “Do you feel weird about it?”_

_  
Archie considered it slowly. “Well, our ex-girlfriends are dating, and I didn’t see it coming. But then again, thinking about it...”_

_  
Jughead let out an unexpected giggle at this, which made Archie laugh again._

_  
"They’re our friends though. I’m honestly so happy they’re happy.” Archie said slowly, and knew he meant it. “Was weird being on the other side of the conversation, though.”_

_  
Jughead couldn’t help laughing again at this. Archie laughs with him. Not that he still had romantic feelings for either of them, but it had been an odd feeling when he’d been told, to say the least. Now, laughing on the bonnet of the truck miles away from town, he feels any angst over it leaving his body._

_  
He turned to face Jughead. “And you. How are you? Are you good?” He said warmly._

_  
Jughead smiled at him funny, that familiar ironic smile. “Well, high school will be over in a few weeks, so yes, I’m good.” He said._

_  
“But are you happy?” He said seriously, feeling like it was the most important thing in the world to know._

_  
Jughead half-smiled, and looked up at the sky and around, and then back at Archie. “I am right now. I am right here.” He said softly, with a small smile._

_  
Archie nodded slowly. “Me too.” He looked around. “Don’t you feel like, almost like nothing can get us here? Like, none of it matters here.” He says quietly._

_  
Jughead nodded. “Just us.”_

_  
Archie nodded too, not taking his eyes off Jughead. It was too dark for him to see his face clearly, but they were close enough in the gloom that he could make out his expression._

_  
“I don’t want to go home. Let’s just stay here.” He whispered, only half joking._

_  
Jughead looked at him without saying anything for a long time. “Ok.”_

_  
Archie looked at him, a curl of dark hair falling out of his ever-present beanie. There was a crumb on his cheek._

_  
Archie raised a hand and automatically brushed it off, and saw Jughead’s eyes widen in surprise._

_  
“Crumb.” He mumbled, but found he wasn’t moving his arm away._

_  
He could hear Jughead’s breathing getting shallower, and could feel his heart beating faster. He hoped it wasn’t out of fear. But as he began even trying to move his arm, it was like Jughead moved with it. Or maybe he was high and imagining it._

_  
He rested his hand on Jughead’s cheekbone and stroked it with his thumb, slowly._

_  
Then, either several hours or a few seconds later, he closed the already small distance between them, and kissed his best friend, very lightly, on the lips._

_  
After what might have been a few seconds more, Jughead pulled back, wild-eyed._

_  
“What are you doing?” He said, voice panicked and different than usual._

_  
Archie pulled away immediately, like he’d been shocked. He couldn’t say anything._

_  
“I can’t – I can’t be the next thing you try!” Jughead said, edging into hysteria._

_  
Archie felt pretty close to that as well. In a moment of self-awareness he felt he rarely had, he saw every relationship he’d had in the past two years, every kiss he’d ever had, just trying to find some comfort and something that wouldn’t make him feel like a mess. How was this any different?_

_  
“Shit. Jug – I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I’m such a mess.” He said, repeating it like a mantra, looking at his feet at the end of the bonnet. He couldn’t look at Jughead._

_  
Jughead said nothing._

_  
Then, quietly “We’re all messes. It’s ok.”_

_  
Archie let out a wild, panic-edged laugh. “It’s not ok, I’m messed up. She messed me up. Why do I keep trying to ruin all of my friendships like this?”_

_  
Jughead looked at him, and he could almost feel the deep sadness coming off him, he didn’t need to be able to see his expression._

_  
“It’s not your fault, Arch, God I’m so angry –“ He broke off bitterly, and swallowed. “I think you should talk to someone though.”_

_  
Archie’s stomach dropped at the thought. “Maybe.” He dragged his eyes away from his feet to look at Jughead. “I would never want to hurt you, Jug. I know I keep messing that up.” His voice came out small and sad, but at least it was there._

_  
“I understand, don’t beat yourself up. People have done worse when they’re high. Or drunk.” Jughead’s voice sounded forgiving, but couldn’t hide a bitter edge._

_  
“Thank you.” He said, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world._

_  
“It’s...fine.”_

_  
The next morning, they packed up the camp silently. It wasn’t the kind of angry, hurt silence of their other fights, more like neither of them knew how to address what had  
happened, sober and in the light of day. It felt like it might not have even happened. _

_  
Archie went to start the car and couldn’t. He knew if they didn’t talk about it before they got home, they never would. “As much as I don’t want to go into it, I think we have to talk about it.” He said awkwardly, staring out the windscreen._

_  
“I mean, it was just a mistake. It doesn’t even seem that big now, in hindsight.” Jughead said quickly. “We had a really good weekend, what if we just – agree to call it a, mishap, and forget about it.”_

_  
Archie leapt on this. It had felt big and intense last night, but maybe he was blowing it out of proportion.  “Yeah, why let one – mishap – ruin a really good trip.” He stared out at the lake, and now couldn’t wait to get away. “Do you want to choose the first song?” He said, and looked at Jughead._

_  
Jughead looked surprised. “No you can. Bring on whatever terrible dance EDM garbage you will.” He said, and the joke almost made him feel normal again._

_  
“I’m offended and I’m going to pick something you hate just for that.” He said, with a half-laugh._

_  
It would be ok. It would be fine._

  
Jughead looks tired, and hurt.

  
“Is it any wonder? You did that before the roadtrip, Jug! It might have changed things, I don’t –“ Archie breaks off.

  
“This is ridiculous. I keep trying with you, but maybe there’s just – too much there. Maybe this is just what we’re always going to do.”

  
He swallows, wishing he hadn’t come to this conclusion but not sure what other one there is. He doesn’t think about the road trip often, keeps it locked away, and now it feels like opening it is creating a physical pain in his chest.

  
“Well I’m tired of trying too, if we’re only ever going to fight. Maybe we should stop trying to resurrect something that died a long time ago.” Jughead says, quietly, like all the fight’s gone out of him.

  
Even though he’d already come to the same conclusion, it hurts to hear it out loud. “Maybe you’re right.”

  
Jughead looks at him searchingly for a long moment, nods curtly, and leaves.

  
Archie drops onto the couch, in shock.

  
***

  
Taking her earphones out for a moment, Josie hears raised voices and then hears a door slam shut. Given that she’s barely seen any other guests around here (a small town B&B is doing well to have two celebrity guests staying as long as they are), and the sound is coming from Veronica’s end of the hallway she assumes it’s likely come from her room.

  
She hesitates. Should she intrude? Does Veronica want that, or would that be humiliating? Are they really good friends enough right now?

  
She thinks about getting back to this very same small room last night, and crying into the pillow on her own until she passed out from grief and exhaustion, and is spurred to get up.

  
She has to ask, at the very least.

  
She knocks on the door. “Veronica? It’s Josie..I just – wanted to see if you were ok?”

  
She hears nothing for a few seconds, and wonders if Veronica means her to leave.

  
Then she hears the door opening.

  
Veronica looks so, small. Small and completely devastated. Crying and not caring that it’s streaking her usually-perfect makeup.

  
Seeing her like this almost makes her burst into tears again, but she holds it back. “Oh, honey,” she says softly, and hugs her. Veronica hugs her back tightly.

  
*

  
“I’m so selfish, God. I’d like to say I wasn’t always like this, but come on. You know where I came from.” Veronica says bitterly, and her voice is croaky with tears.

  
They’re sitting against the headboard of the bed. Josie’s wrapped her arm around Veronica, who is leaning her head on Josie’s shoulder. It’s comforting her too, being the only physical contact she’s had since yesterday. Since Cheryl. Thinking of it makes her really feel like she’s about to burst into floods of tears again.

  
“That’s ridiculous, and you know it, V.” She chides Veronica, but not harshly. “You care so much about people. About your friends and your family. You’re not selfish.”

  
“Sure, because selfless people just forget to tell their ex that they’re maybe engaged.” Veronica says wetly, in a very sarcastic tone.

  
“You made a mistake, and it came out in a pretty bad way. That doesn’t make you evil.” Josie rebuts, hugging her a little more.

  
“But mistakes still hurt people you love. Sometimes just the fact you did it is too much. I mean, you definitely know what I’m talking about. Would you forgive me in her position?” Veronica asks miserably.

  
Josie doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t think she actually can. She’s trying not to go to pieces about it, throwing herself into Veronica’s – even though she’d ended up telling a very abridged version of what happened, to Veronica when she asked.

  
She gulps. “I don’t know.”

  
Veronica sniffles, and Josie passes her a tissue from the bedside table.

  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. I was having dinner with my mom. You should have called me though,” She says empathetically.

  
Josie shakes her head. “You have so little time to hang out with her anyway.”

  
She hears a knock on the door.

  
Veronica’s eyes widen a little, but then she shakes her head. “Not likely. Can you get it? I can’t face getting up.” She begs.

  
Josie nods kindly, and gets up and opens the door. Somewhat unexpectedly, it’s Archie, looking worried and like he’s surprised to see her.

  
The other anxiety bubbles up, that he’s for some reason still mad at her about when she saw him last at the farmers market. 

  
“Josie?” He says, and looks even more worried. “Are you ok?”

  
“Are you still mad at me? Is that why you’ve been impossible to contact?” She doesn’t even mean to say all that, but she doesn’t lie to him.

  
His expression becomes more guilty. “About yesterday? I totally forgot all about it – Jose, I’m so sorry, my phone died and it’s been a really hectic day.” He smiles, even though his eyes are still sad. “God, it’s good to see you though.”

  
This is what finally causes her to burst into tears, even though it’s partly the relief. He instantly moves to hug her. “You too.” She mumbles into his shirt.

  
***

  
Archie had spent a few hours at  his Dad’s house not moving, blankly watching daytime television when he’d realised he just wanted to see Josie.

  
Dropping by the liquor store on his way to the B&B he bought a bottle of vodka, and on impulse seeing the small display at the counter, a block of chocolate. The server, a man he didn’t know, gave him a suggestive wink when scanning his items. “Special night, eh?”

  
“You could say that.” If by special you meant, probably get drunk with your friend because you’re fucking miserable and can’t face going home and pretending everything is fine in front of your Dad and stepmother, then yes.

  
Now, in the B&B carpark, he is briefly surprised to see Betty again. She’s crying though, and all she says to him when he asks is “I can’t, Arch. I can’t,” before getting into her car hurriedly and driving off.

  
Looking back at the B&B he feels a pang of a guilt realising she must have been here to see Veronica, like he’d convinced her to do earlier. It was only this morning, but this day feels like it’s gone on for five years.

  
He suddenly thinks of Veronica, who is probably in a similar state, and decides his problems are going to have to wait. He’ll drop in on her before Josie, who he hopes is here. He hasn’t actually texted her since...yesterday? It feels a weirdly long time.

  
Knocking on Veronica’s door, it’s opened by Josie. For a moment he wonders if he mixed up their door numbers, but then he’s hit by how grateful he is to see her. And then he realises something’s wrong – she looks anxious and washed out and about five seconds from crying.

  
At first he’s confused at why he’d be mad – until he remembers the farmers market argument. So much had happened since that he’d completely forgotten. He feels awful for making her worry though, his phone had died shortly after leaving Reggie’s.

  
“God it’s good to see you though,” He says, with feeling. His heart’s taken a pounding but at least she’s here. He can get through anything with her.

  
He doesn’t expect this to cause her to burst into tears, and he instinctively moves to comfort her. She hugs him back tightly. “You too.”

  
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? This isn’t about our argument, is it?” He says, having several ideas about what would cause her to break down like this. She didn’t cry easily, and she had always had a thicker skin than him, so it had to be pretty bad.

  
She looks up at him. “Come in. I’ll tell you, but I’m also trying to comfort V.”

  
“Yeah, I saw Betty leaving. Looked pretty bad.” He says quietly. “On the other hand now I have the perfect thing to comfort her.” He hands her the bag he put down.

  
“How did you know –” she asks, seemingly clocking his misery.

  
“I was going to ask if you wanted to drink tonight anyway, and I could catch you up, but apparently we all need this after today.” He says, with a weary chuckle.

 

“You can come in, Archie, it’s ok.” Veronica calls out throatily, from inside.

  
He doesn’t actually remember the last time he’d seen her look so small and utterly devastated. He walks over to her, and sits down, and looks at her, fully understanding how miserable she looks. It’s how he feels currently.

  
“Hey, Ronnie. I was worried you were alone, good to see Josie’s here for you. What happened?”

  
“Did you come to see if I was ok?” She asks, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes, appreciative in a vulnerable, private way. He nods, giving her a warm smile. She throws her arms around him, and he hugs her back. “God I missed you, Arch.” She says, muffled.

  
“Missed you too.” He says quietly.

  
Josie plonks down beside them, holding the bag with the vodka.

  
“So I’m guessing we’ve all had a pretty shit day then.” He says, with a rueful half-smile. Josie and Veronica reply with similar weary sounds of acknowledgement. “But I got us hard liquor and chocolate as I was coming over.”  

  
“God bless you, Arch.” Veronica says emphatically.

  
He looks at them. “I really would like not to be sober tonight. You in?”

  
“ _Fucking hell_ , yes.” Josie says heartily.

  
“I could definitely use a fucking drink, or seven.” Veronica agrees. She takes their hands. “Thanks for being here, guys. Means a lot.”

  
“No worries.” Archie says, with an ironic smile.

  
“Misery loves company. And what better company?” Josie adds.

  
*

  
Josie stares up at the ceiling, vision blurring slightly. It’s late, but she doesn’t know how late. It doesn’t matter. They’ve danced and talked and now, in the manner of most drinking parties that happen in a smallish hotel room, they’ve sunk down to the floor. Some things just seem better there.

  
“I think I made a huge mistake in coming here.” Veronica says slowly. “I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea in any way.”

  
“You think _you_ made a mistake?” Josie replies, only slightly slurry. “Except for Mel, everything about this trip has basically been an unmitag – unmitigated disaster for me.”

  
Archie laughs, tiredly. “I’ve been thinking that for the last two days Ronnie, give or take, so you’re in good company.”

  
Something occurs to Josie, and she hesitates to ask.

  
“What does Jack think of you coming here?”

  
Veronica turns her head to look at her. “Jack...he didn’t really get it. I told him I was mostly going to see my Mom, and catch up with some old friends. But he couldn’t wait to get out of his shitty little Nebraskan hometown, he’d never go back.”

  
 “I kind of thought that was how you felt about here.” Josie muses.

  
Veronica looks up again, and sighs.  “I know. At the start, definitely at the end, yes. But I got the invite, and I ended up being – curious to see how things had turned out here.”

  
Josie makes an agreeing noise.

  
“Speaking of, did you know Reggie has a bar now? Like, he owns it.” Archie says suddenly.

  
Veronica chuckles. “Why am I not surprised?”

  
Josie isn’t surprised either. “I’m guessing it’s nicer than that skeevy local.”

  
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice and modern-looking. I went in last night, and I was totally blindsided by the bartender being Reg. It was good to catch up, though.” Archie replies casually. Too casually, but then Josie’s distracted from her thinking by Veronica.

  
“Why did you guys come, then? Or at least, what did you convince yourselves you were doing here?” Veronica asks slowly.

  
Josie is quiet. She looks at Archie, who looks pained at the question. “We weren’t going to. We thought, why would we go to our small town high-school reunion, we’re too big for that.”

  
Veronica laughs. “Same.”

  
“But even just the idea of it, the invitation was just in the back of our heads for _weeks,_ and we finally thought we’d regret it more if we didn’t at least go  and try.” Archie continues for her, words twisted by irony.

  
“But of course, we were so wrong. What a stupid idea.” She means to say it with a little humour, but it comes out smaller and more emotional than she intended. The events of yesterday, both Val and Cheryl have come crashing down on her again.

  
Her vision blurs even more as she stares up at the ceiling, and she tries to blink away the starting tears.

  
She feels Archie take her hand, without disagreeing. Veronica nestles her head on her shoulder comfortingly. “At least you tried.”

  
“I just thought – I thought she’d changed,” she says, hating how small and choked up she sounds. “I thought she understood me. And it’s not even just what she asked, it’s that she could – _see_ it hurt me and she didn’t stop asking. How could I ever trust someone like that?”

  
 Veronica pulls away to prop herself up on her elbow. “I have some thoughts, if you want to hear. But you might want another drink first. Arch?”

  
“Please.”

  
“Ok...” Josie says, looking at her suspiciously.

  
Cups full once again with mini-bar coke and a generous helping of vodka, they sit against the side of the bed. Veronica turns to Josie, on her right. “If you’re not looking to hear anything but, _yeah that sucks,_ I can do that.”

  
Josie shakes her head. “No, tell me.” She may as well know now, even if she totally disagrees.

  
Veronica smiles comfortingly. “Ok, well I’m going to have to be devil’s advocate here, but...you remember when I said that thing about feeling like you guys didn’t need me?”

  
“Aw.” Archie says guilty, and puts his arm around Veronica. “I’m sorry about that.”

  
Veronica smiles at him. “Ancient history.”

  
Josie smiles, on the other side of her. He really is an affectionate drunk, which used to annoy her so much when they were younger, but was something she’d grown to love.

  
Veronica turns back to her. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that – it doesn’t make it...ok. but you guys – the bond you’ve developed, that none of us were a part of, it can seem a bit...intimidating. Before we stopped hanging out, being around you guys was _so weird_ for me, because I remembered being best friends with you both, separately; and then suddenly, every time I saw you it was like – you were closer, and more in tune with each other.’

  
She is interrupted by Archie shaking with silent laughter. “I mean, we’d wanna be.” He gets out, and Josie can’t help giggling, and Veronica rolls her eyes but something about the ridiculousness of the joke sets her off too.

  
“This is what I mean!” She accuses, still laughing. “And I’m clearly losing my tolerance if I’m finding your humour funny.”

  
He looks mock-offended. “That hurts, Ronnie.”

  
“And your point is?” Josie asks, prodding Veronica lightly.

  
“My point is,” she says, grumpily rubbing her arm, “that even though she went about it in a shitty way, _maybe,_ Cheryl was trying to understand if there was any chance that a possible second chance for you guys might be undermined by a different redhead? One that’s been your closest confidant, and the only person who’s shared the majority of your life for years since you broke up?”

  
Put in Veronica’s sensible, friendly tone it almost sounds reasonable, but she can’t ignore the sense memory of nausea she has when she thinks of the fight, and the deeply buried things it dredged up. She told had told them the question Cheryl had so desperately wanted to know, but only one of them could really know why it hurt so much. She hadn’t been able to face going over it again with Veronica, even though she was sure she’d understand.

  
“But why? She’s _fucking known_ I don’t mess with boys since we were _fifteen_...it felt almost like a – denial of all that, to ask me something so, _ridiculous._ ” She manages to get out, feeling the hurt and nausea rising again.

  
Archie looks at her, understandingly, and reaches out his free hand to hers.

  
“It’s not exactly a reasonable reaction, but she _has_ been abandoned so much. I don’t think she meant to invalidate you.” Veronica sits up, putting an arm around her.

  
Archie looks troubled. After a moment he says, “Look, it’s not that I don’t understand that, because believe me I do. But if you can’t stop... even when you know you’re hurting someone that you,” his breath hitches slightly, “that you, care about, then maybe you’re better off apart.”

  
Josie squeezes his hand. Veronica leans into the crook of his shoulder and neck.

  
“You don’t need to worry about me, I’m ok. It’s not like it’s as bad as you guys...It’s not like I lost an ex again.” He says, with a nod at Josie, dropping her hand to take another drink. Veronica gives Josie a subtle look.

  
They drink quietly, together. She wishes that they could be completely open and honest, but adding Veronica, as much as they love her, to the mix means there’s things unsaid, unreflected on. Secrets one person knows about the other that the other doesn’t realise they know. Secrets another person can’t be told.

  
After a while, Veronica says seriously, “Well, I think we have to address the elephant in the room,”

  
Josie shares a confused look with Archie. Veronica looks at him. “That being of course, the hickey on your neck. _Very_ highschool of you, Archiekins.” The slightly slurred way she says this is very endearing. Josie laughs, surprised, and notices it again.

  
Archie smirks, looking half embarrassed and half pleased. She narrows her eyes, and suddenly an earlier thought she’d had makes sense, and her jaw drops. “No. You _didn’t._ ” She says, and then he raises his eyebrows at her, and she remembers that Veronica’s not supposed to know, officially.

  
Veronica looks between them. “Now you _have_ to tell me who it was. C’mon Arch, I’m starved for entertainment!” She jokes, poking him.

  
He makes a face. “It’s not that exciting, really.”

  
“So it was someone in the bar, but it’s someone you both know. Maybe someone I know?” Veronica teases.

  
“You could say so.” Archie smirks.

  
She thinks about it for a moment. “Holy _shit_ , Reggie?”

  
He looks surprised, but he can’t help smiling, which is unexpected. “How did you – actually it’s probably because you usually knew stuff before I did – but _when_ did you figure it out?”

  
She cringes a little. “Ok, I was never certain, but I had an...inkling by senior year.”

  
“What did I say? God, you worked it out before I did!” He says laughs, in a happy, drunken way, but also in the way that people laugh in spite of some bad event, some great unfairness. He squeezes her arm, and they can’t help laughing with him.

  
“Reggie, really?” Josie teases him, making a face. “Dudebro football Reggie?”

  
“Hey! Do I judge you, _Josephine?_ ” He says, stretching out the syllables. She laughs.

  
“Hey, I get it, Arch.” Veronica says, patting him supportively, still laughing as she finishes her drink. “He’s a babe. And you had a – vibe. I feel you.”

  
He snorts. “A vibe I was totally oblivious to. Although, now that I’m thinking about it...” This causes Josie and Veronica to laugh harder.

  
“He was constantly touching your arms, in a bro-y way of course.” Veronica reminisces, laughing so much she slides down on the side of the bed.

  
“The perfect cover.” Archie repeats, a memory only he has, and laughs. “I definitely can’t judge, I was way more of a mess.”

  
Josie reaches over to pat him, somewhat clumsily, on the arm. The drinks are making yesterday feel distant and blurry, like it happened two years ago instead. “I think we all were.”

  
“Not to be all Judy Blume on you, but I think that’s high school.” Veronica adds.

  
Josie giggles, sinking down against the side of the bed.

  
***

  
Archie looks up into the ceiling. He’s glad that they turned the main light off at some point, it was starting to give him a headache.

  
“So, what do you think...should we go home? I’m not sure I can face going to this _fucking thing_ on Saturday, to be honest...” Archie says slowly. He feels tired in every inch of his body, but also weirdly too wired to pass out.

  
They’ve reached the floor again. It’s weirdly comfortable.

  
“Fuck no.” Josie says, next to him. “What do you think, V?”

  
Veronica sighs. “I mean, I guess it seems like a...lost cause. We should just give up and run home...” She pauses, and looks at them.

  
“But it just feels like...this can’t be the end. There has to be a, goddamn reason for us to have come here. I just...can’t accept going home with my tail between my legs.”

  
“I think you’re getting confused with the movies you’re in. There’s no reason for this to end happily.” Josie points out sardonically.

  
He has a sudden pang of emotion. “Josie’s right. You can try, but you can’t just _make_ things better because you want them to be.”

  
Veronica props herself up on one elbow to look at them both. “And you can definitely go home. But if we all had our way – without worrying about rejection, just honestly what is the thing you came here for? What would you give your last shot to, before admitting defeat?”

  
He’s kind of stunned by the speech, and sees Josie is too.

  
Josie sighs. “I don’t think I can see Cheryl again – and yeah, she was a reason for coming. But the main one...I would – I want to talk to Val. I need to apologise to her. _Shit.”_ She frowns up at the ceiling.

  
Veronica smiles empathetically. “Yes! Exactly.”

  
Archie looks at her. “Well what would you do?”

  
Veronica gets her “this is a tough one, but damned if it’s going to beat the sheer bloody-mindedness of Veronica Lodge” look. He smiles. He hasn’t seen it since the last time they took exams together.

  
“Well, I think I have two options. Stay with Jack, go home, stick with the safe thing even though I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on me –“ She takes a breath. “Or, break off my engagement, and try to get Betty to forgive me. Which may well not work. And then I’d just have to spend the next year reading wild theories about why I broke off an engagement to my hot, funny movie-star fiancée who I will probably run into or have to work with again sometime soon.” She takes a deeper breath. “Right.”

  
“As long as you’re making a decision. If I have any advice, it’s not to go after Betty before you have.” Josie says sagely.

  
“Do you still love her?” Archie asks, looking at her.

  
Her expression becomes softer and sadder almost immediately. “I didn’t know it until today, but _God,_ yes. I’m not over her.”

  
He loosely takes her hand. “Then you gotta decide that she’s worth the gamble. Even if she rejects you.”

  
She smiles down at him. “When did you get so wise, Arch?”

  
“I taught him well.” Josie pipes up, making them laugh.

  
“So what about you?” Veronica asks. “What’s your last shot?”

  
He drops his head back and sighs. “I’m not sure I have one.”

  
He told them about the fights earlier, but left out the road trip being brought up – he didn’t feel like reliving that just for Veronica’s sake. Josie knew what had happened, of course.

  
Josie takes his hand, quietly.

  
“Are you sure you can’t just –” Veronica starts.

  
“We pretty much called a time of death on our friendship. And it wasn’t even angry.” He says, trying and failing to sound apathetic. “He,” his breath hitches in his throat, and he turns into a cough, “doesn’t want to see me.”

  
They’re silent for a minute or two.

  
Then Josie sits up bolt upright. She looks down at him oddly. “I have an idea, but you’re gonna hate it.”

  
This just makes him more curious. “Hit me.”

  
She looks away, sighs, and back to him. “You have one more card to play, Arch. And I know you were probably never going to, but the worst has already kinda happened, hasn’t it? What else do you have to lose?”

  
“What card? I don’t –“ Then what she means dawns on him. Oh. Just ‘that card’. He sucks in a breath. “He doesn’t want to see me anyway.”

  
Josie grabs him by the wrists. “If I can go apologise to Val, you can tell Jughead. I think he deserves to know.”

  
Veronica looks confused. “Tell him what?”

  
“Oh just the truth... The fucking heavy painful, truth I’ve been hiding, even from myself, for years. But I – I have to do it. I’m going to have to tell Jughead that I –“ he can feel his throat tightening, but he pushes the words out, “- that I love him.”

  
Veronica looks at him in wonder, mostly emotional and overwhelmingly proud. She takes his hand and squeezes it. Josie curls up next to him.

  
“We can do this,” she says with quiet determination.

  
***

  
Archie’s passed out on the floor next to Josie, but she and Veronica are still conscious. Talking about it all, even though they’re no less worried about what they have to do.

  
“V, can I ask you something even though you can refuse to answer it?” Josie asks, slowly, as the thought comes to her.

  
Veronica nods. “You can ask me anything, six-drink Veronica does not care,” she says sleepily.

  
Josie chews her lip for a moment. “You’ve said a few times you’re pretty sure Jack’s cheating on you, but you don’t seem that bothered by it...”

  
Veronica sags a little against the side of the bed. “Oh...that.” She turns her head to look at Josie. “I know, you must think I don’t care about him too much if I’m not even that...angry about it?”

  
Josie shakes her head. “I get it, our worlds are weird for relationships. I just thought you’d be the kind of person busting his car windows and shit like that?”

  
Veronica sighs. “It’s complicated with us. I love him, but not in the way I did when we first got together.” She smiles wistfully. “It was this insane, passionate bond. We just had this instant connection, and it was like –“ She breaks off, looking like she’s trying to capture the elusive perfect words to describe it. “Neither of us were the type at the time, for long-term relationships. He liked flings with models, and I enjoyed my freedom more than I liked dating, and then suddenly we got in each other’s heads and refused to leave.”

  
Josie nods. She misses that feeling. It’s been so long since anyone’s made a real impression like that on her. “Always the way.”

  
Veronica nods. “Exactly. He said there was something about me, he couldn’t forget, that he was falling for. And the thing I fell for, really, was him being honest with me. He knew his flaws, and he tried to be better. We both tried. But it’s been two years, and I accepted his proposal because I didn’t want to – lose our relationship. But I don’t know that it’s what either of us wants. I guess, in the end, I don’t see him cheating as proof he doesn’t love me, he just can’t help it.” She chuckles quietly. “Maybe neither of us can.”

  
Josie puts her arm around her. “Wish I could say I hadn’t been there. I guess if you’re not feeling it now, it’s not likely to survive the rest of your life. Look at all of our parents. _Fuck._ ”

  
“That’s a good point. And horrifying, statistically.” Veronica replies, leaning her head on Josie’s shoulder.

  
They sit quietly for a beat.

  
“Josie, can I ask you something? I promise you can refuse to answer, but please don’t hate me, I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m just...trying to understand,” Veronica asks   
carefully, softly.

  
Josie nods. “You did for me. I reserve the right not to answer it though.”

  
Veronica slides her head off Josie’s shoulder to look at her. “I can understand that Cheryl asking you something like that is painful, because you fought hard for that identity, and you’re more brave about it than I’ve ever been...”

  
Josie looks at her through a haze of confusion. “And...”

  
“I just hate seeing you so devastated, and I got the sense that there was more to why her asking that hurt so much, and I guess if you wanna talk about it, if there were things you didn’t want to say with both of us around...” Veronica trails off again, looking tired and worried.

  
Josie considers it, and realises she isn’t angry this time. She can still feel the feelings of misery and nausea that well up when she thinks of yesterday’s fight and the memories it stirred up, but she can tell this time that Veronica isn’t asking because she has to know.

  
She swallows.

  
“If you don’t want to –“

  
“No, I – I think you might, actually – be the one person I wanna talk about it with...” She cuts her off, speaking softly, staring ahead.

  
Veronica takes her hand quietly, seemingly sensing it’s something that’s hard for her to talk about.

  
“It _is_ ridiculous that she asked me that. It shouldn’t have been something that she seriously entertained. But the other thing is, she’s always been...scarily good, at figuring out your secrets, before you want her to know. I felt so, uncomfortably stripped, in that moment.” Her voice starts to shake, and Veronica squeezes her hand.

  
“It brought up some bad things.” Veronica looks sad, and sympathetic to her, and doesn’t ask for details but Josie continues anyway. n a way, it feels better to unburden herself with Veronica here than it did bringing it up for the first time in years in her fight with Cheryl. It feels like she’s lifting the weight of that off her back.

  
“When we were twenty-one, we both ended up in relationships with this actor and actress, that started within weeks of each other. They were friends, you might have worked with them.” Josie almost wishes Veronica would guess, would love to talk about it with someone not in the middle of it, but she’s not drunk or bitter enough to out Natalie (and Adam for that matter) if she doesn’t know.

  
Veronica looks so sorry already. Josie wonders if she looks even more pathetic talking about Nat than she feels like. “So, they also ended about a year later, within weeks of each other.” She can feel herself getting hot in her tears ducts again. “It was the _first time_ we’d properly lost people we loved since leaving home, and it just...” She can feel her voice wavering again.

  
“Oh, Jose.” Veronica says softly.

  
Josie grips her hand a bit tighter and takes a steadying breath. “There was this night...” she gets out. “I’m sure you’ve had one. We got so fucked up, and the absolute _worst thing_ ,” she says, voice trembling, Veronica looking like she’s afraid she knows how the story ends, “ _the worst thing_ , is that I don’t _know_. I’m assuming from my memories at the start of the night, but I don’t fucking _remember the rest.”_ She can feel herself crying already, silent tears rolling down her face.

  
Veronica looks horrified, and Josie can see the glint of tears in her eyes in the late night-early morning gloom. She seems to have filled in the blanks.

  
She opens her mouth and doesn’t speak for a few deadly silent seconds. “So you don’t – did you know if you two-“ she can’t finish the sentence and breaks off.

  
Josie shakes her head. She tries to continue, even though she feels choked. “And I know it wasn’t like an... _assault,_ like and I don’t know if anything happened but just _thinking_ that it might have –“she can’t help breaking down at this, and Veronica throws her arms around her and hugs her tightly.

  
“I’m so sorry, Josie.” She whispers, sounding choked up herself. 

  
 It’s strange how cathartic it feels. Before this week she’d only ever talked about it with Archie and that was something that they necessarily had stopped talking about many years ago.

  
“And he already had issues there, and the thought that – I might’ve done something to add to that, to hurt him –“ A heavy sob escapes her, and she takes a second to breathe.

  
“He wouldn’t think that. It wasn’t deliberate for either of you.” Veronica replies immediately, unwavering in her support. “How did you...get past that?”

  
Josie thinks, leaning into the arm Veronica has put around her. “It was...hard, at first. I didn’t want to see him. I took two weeks break, left our apartment and got out of L.A, before I got my thoughts in order.”

  
She looks over at Archie, sleeping on a cushion they’d thought to put under his head after he passed out while they were lying on the floor at some point.

  
She looks into the old curtains of the room, straight ahead. “I got home, and I decided if he was there I’d tell him that I didn’t think we could work together anymore.” She stops again, wiping at her eyes, unable not to relive the dread of that moment. “I think he’s not home, and then I hear this noise from the bathroom. I go in and he’s sitting next to the bath, and he looks so _small._ And _shattered._ And he’s sitting there, sobbing.” Veronica is crying silently, just thin tear tracks down her face, and she thinks for a moment, that she’s so glad this person never stopped having such care for them both.

  
She looks at Veronica. “I think he’d had a panic attack that had become a breakdown, and he looked so _bad_. Like he hadn’t been sleeping, or looking after himself. I sat down next to him, not sure what I was going to say, and he goes ahead and says, ‘You have to get away from me Josie’”. She takes a breath that threatens to become a sob. “Just like that. Not in a ‘pity me, massage my fragile ego’ way, but like he honestly believed that. And he says, ‘You’ve worked too hard, don’t let me ruin your life, you have to get away from me.’ And he’s not looking for sympathy, he’s shrinking away from me. And then, he fucking looks at me and says, ‘There’s something wrong in me, and I think it’s making me ruin my best friendships by doing things like this.’” Veronica hugs her arm around her tighter.

  
“Oh, Arch,” she says softly, looking over at him, face still damp with tear tracks.

  
Josie hadn’t fully realised how much she’d needed to talk about this until now. She’d never wanted to tell her mother or any girl she was dating. She’d thought she could carry it on her own. “He kept apologising, saying he was fucked up, and then a ‘she fucked me up’ slipped out, and I couldn’t –“ Veronica gasps softly, and Josie swallows, determined to finish talking.

  
“- _I couldn’t_ leave him. I saw the both of us hurting, and not talking to each other, and I realised that maybe it could have been the end, if we’d kept our friends. But we were fucking _all we had._ We needed each other. So, we talked about it, finally, and there was a lot more emotions, but we managed to get back out of that darkness. But we don’t talk about it, and I haven’t thought about it in years, and then Cheryl – she took my deepest secret, and demanded to know it before I was ready to even face it again. So that’s why.” Josie breathes out, feeling oddly lighter

  
“I bet you’re glad you asked,” she says, half-joking.

  
Veronica hugs her again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t fully understand when I was trying to give you advice.”

  
Josie smiles softly, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t let you. I really needed that, it’s kind of been a shared secret between me and Arch for like six years now. Thank you, V.”

  
Veronica smiles at her, warm if sad-eyed. “Thank you for being my friend again. We’ll be alright.”

  
Josie nods. “I hope so.”

  
***

  
Josie wakes up, and wonders if Veronica put this blanket over her. She vaguely remembers putting a cushion under her head but not falling asleep.

  
She’s tired, but not incapacitated. Years of tour bus sleep schedules and sometimes weird recording hours have given her an ability to function on only a few hours sleep better than the average person.

  
She’s going to need a painkiller for this hangover though.

  
She checks her phone. _8:08 am._

  
Archie’s gone. She remembers finding a cushion for his head, after he’d passed out.

  
She remembers their conversation last night clearly, even through the hangover haze, so she types out a text to him quickly.

_  
Good luck. With you no matter what._

  
He texts back quickly. _thanks, jose. fuck i’m more nervous than when we did cchlla the 1 st time, & u remember how bad my nerves were!!_

  
She smiles at the memory, then starts writing a text to Mel.

_  
Hey are you free to have breakfast this morning?_

  
Then she goes to ransack Veronica’s bathroom for Advil.

  
*

  
She sits in the cafe, and gets up to hug Mel when she comes in.

  
“How’ve you been? I already ordered us coffees, if that’s ok.”

  
Mel smiles. “As long as I get an espresso, I’m good. They have a professional machine at work, and they actually have a barista to make it for you. I’m accustomed to the good stuff now. I think I broke Pop Tate’s heart though, not drinking his coffee.”

  
Josie chuckles. “I get you. Filter is hard to go back to. But yeah, what have you been up to?”

  
Mel nods. “Mostly hanging out with my family. Harmony’s back, she just graduated from Columbia and she’s saving money to move out. It’s been really good to see her.”

  
Josie beams. “Wow that’s so weird, my mental picture of your little sister is still at about twelve years old. Say hi to her from me, will you?”

  
“Of course!” Mel says, like there isn’t a chance she wouldn’t. “Not to be insulting, but you look tired. Long night?”

  
Josie closes her eyes for a second, and opens them. “Very. Lots of D&Ms. I haven’t had much sleep.”

  
Mel nods, then gets a look like she’s remembered something important. “Oh, I haven’t asked you yet – how did it go with Cheryl?” she asks brightly.

  
Josie is thrown for a moment, wondering how she knows, before remembering they’d been hanging out when she’d made the plans. It was only Tuesday night, not more than   
two and a half days ago, and yet it feels like a long time ago, somehow. Grief has a way of distorting time.

  
She puts on a casual look. “It was ok.”

  
Mel gives her a familiar, unimpressed look. “I know I haven’t seen you in a minute Josie, but I still remember what you look like when you’re pretending not to be bothered. What happened?”

  
Josie smiles a little, caught out. “Ok, it – didn’t go like I would have – wanted.” That’s an understatement.

  
Mel gives her a sympathetic look. It’s small, not pitying. Josie remembers again all the times she confided in her, and why she was such a good friend. It hurts, but at least they’re talking now.

  
“I’m sorry Josie. Maybe it’s salvageable?” she asks kindly.

  
Josie shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she says, tight-voiced. “Anyway, that’s not important now. I saw Val on Wednesday, at the market.”

  
Mel looks caught. “Ah.”

  
Josie frowns slightly. “It’s alright, you can tell me she already told you.”

  
Mel sighs, sounding relieved. “She may have...mentioned it in passing,” she says, carefully.

  
Josie looks at her, determinedly. “Look, it’s not like I expect her to – want to be friends again, or anything, but I want –“ she breaks off for a second, “I _need_ to apologise to her. C’mon Mel, you have to help me, please.”

  
Mel looks worried. “Ok, I was certainly touched that you apologised to me, even though I didn’t really need to hear it. But, have you asked yourself why? Because if you’re just doing it so you can go back to Los Angeles not feeling like a shitty person, I’m not sure you should.”

  
She had forgotten how matter-of-fact Mel could be, but it had always been something she loved. She was a great person to get advice from.

  
The barista delivers their coffees in the emotional quiet that follows.

  
She looks at the coffee, where the barista has done a heart design on the top. _Of course._

  
She looks back at Mel, already feeling a wave of emotions threatening to crush her. She gets a hold of it, and speaks. “I can’t say it’s not a little bit selfishly motivated. I can’t help it, I want to try and talk things out with her before I go. But I’ll tell you this – I came here, really, for you girls. _Hoping_ you’d forgive me. Because there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret being the reason I lost my best friends.”

  
Mel looks misty behind her glasses, and she takes them off to wipe at her eyes discreetly. She looks at Josie before she puts them back on. “Really? Not for Cheryl?”

  
Josie sighs. The name alone is enough to make her feel like she’s inhaled razorblades. “I was angry at her, so it was easier. But you two, I felt like I had to at least try, because I hurt you both, and even though I know you say it doesn’t matter I still did it.”

  
Mel looks around, and shakes her head. “ _Damnit_ , ok fine I’ll help you. I can’t promise you it’s a good idea, but if you make sure to say stuff like _that..._ ”

  
Josie smiles gratefully, feeling dangerously close to tears again. She’s been doing more crying this week than in the last year, it’s ridiculous.

  
***

  
Archie’s heart hammers as he sits in the back of the cab. He’d decided that this time, it wouldn’t be a great start to show up panting, and probably then end up throwing up in a bush.

  
He’s been listening to music the whole way, to calm his nerves. It isn’t fully working, but he’s so nervous he feels like he could throw up, even without jogging three or four miles.

_  
I’m the one that’s acting like I’m so strong, you’re the one that’s acting like nothing’s wrong._

  
He’s barely slept, waking up before the girls did. He sat outside chain-smoking until he came up with a plan.

_  
Can we skip the charades, and just speak plain?_

  
Too soon, he’s at the address. He looks at his phone. _8:15 am._ Hopefully he hasn’t left for work yet.

  
He rushes up the stairs, both dreading reaching the front door and wanting to race to it.

  
It’s not a truth he’s often allowed himself to think, but now it’s been suggested he actually do something about it, he can’t imagine even waiting till the end of the day. It’s too big, too important.

  
He gets to the door, and hesitates for a moment. What if Jughead won’t even let him in? But this becomes a moot point, when the door opens without him knocking.

  
Archie’s heart jumps. Jughead doesn’t see him for a second, holding a piece of toast in his mouth and looking for something in his bag. When he does he shrinks back, looking startled and almost drops the toast.

  
He takes the triangle of toast in hand, and then his expression becomes more annoyed. “I _really_ don’t have the time or energy to fight with you right now Archie, I’ve gotta get to work. Anyway, I thought we worked that out yesterday.”

  
The bitter way he says the last sentence hurts, but Archie pushes on regardless.

  
Keeping eye contact, he says “I know, I know what we said. But I have something very important that I need to tell you.”

  
His heart is hammering so much it feels like he did run all the way from the B&B.

  
Jughead looks confused and suspicious. “Right at this moment? I’m literally about to leave.”

  
“I won’t stop you. But this – I couldn’t wait till 4:30.” Archie says, words falling out over each other in haste.

  
Jughead looks completely confused, and narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You look pretty wild right now, are you...on anything?”

  
He’s taken aback and then remembers that his hair is probably a mess, and there are bags under his eyes. He’d almost forgotten to change, but passing a mirror, remembered he’d been wearing the same thing since Wednesday and changing might leave a better impression.

  
“No! I haven’t had a lot of sleep in the last forty-eight hours, been thinking about things a lot. I should really be sleeping. But I had to come here.”

  
Jughead nods slowly, looking like he still doesn’t understand. “Ok, you’ve got five minutes total before I really have to leave.”

  
Archie can feel a panic attack bubbling, but he attempts to push it down. He takes a deep, steadying breath. “Ok, I’m not a big speech-maker, but...I’ve been wondering why we keep fighting, why we can’t go back to how things were. When we were friends, and I realised it’s because things changed –“

  
Jughead makes a derisive sound. Archie pushes on determinedly, feeling like if he doesn’t get this out he’s never going to.

  
“- I know that seems obvious, but they changed before I left. I was so afraid then, but I’ve got nothing left to lose now.”

  
Jughead frowns bitterly.

  
The panic is edging in, but he takes another breath. “What I’m trying to say, what I should have said a long time ago, is that – I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I didn’t realise it until it was far too late. But I know now, I love you _so fucking much_ it’s been haunting me for ten years.”

  
Jughead gapes at him, stunned speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliffhanger!!! hopefully now I'm finished assignments and am getting into a few weeks of holidays, it won't be too long before i have the next chapter done & beta'd :D
> 
> The song Archie listens to in the cab is: Cold War Kids - Skip The Charades, if you were interested


	11. Home (Is When I'm Alone With You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting close now!! enjoy!! (also fun bonus game: guess which line I stole accidentally from a jonah hill movie and posted about, and which an unironic JH fan blog advised me to use when I said I shouldn't)

 

 _We could be gigantic, everything I need, vicodin on Sunday nights.  
We could be worth the risk, just give me a try – _ **Just Give Me A Try, The Wombats**

 

Archie waits for Jughead to say something. He looks frozen in place.

  
Then he closes his mouth. Then after a moment opens it again.

  
“What the actual _fuck_ , Archie?”

  
Archie is taken aback. Of all the possible outcomes to this that he’d thought of this morning, he wouldn’t have put money on that one.

  
“What?” He asks, confused as to what he’s done now.

  
Jughead’s face works itself furiously into disbelieving anger, and he opens and closes his mouth several times before anything with sound comes out.

  
“This might be _peak you,_ Christ...you think you can just _come back here_ and interrupt my whole life, you and Josie and Veronica sweeping in here with your celebrity drama and upsetting my friends, when they were _fine,_ and were all _fine..._ ” Jughead breaks off, gesturing speechlessly. “And you come to my place after telling me only _yesterday_ that all we ever do is fight, and our friendship is over, and then you, you tell me... _this?_ ”

  
He sounds almost hurt as he spits out the last word, which is mystifying to Archie. You’d think he’d told him he had always secretly hated him instead.

  
He wants to say “well actually, you’re the one who said our friendship was dead”, but he can’t speak right now. He can’t quite believe it. It’s rare that thing you’re dreading somehow goes worse than the worst scenario you pictured.

  
He can definitely feel the panic attack taking over, and he can’t push it down. Somehow, they’d always worked out their issues, they’d always gotten past it, but this was it. All the cards had been played and he’d still lost. It was really over.

  
Which meant he’d been building this up for years, and it really was just one-sided. God, this was humiliating, and it _hurt_. Somehow he was frozen to the spot, though, still looking at Jughead.

  
“God, you’re not going to say anything about that?” Jughead says frustratedly, angry and hurt looking.

  
He summons the last tatters of his courage and looks him in the eye. “I already said it.” It doesn’t come out as venomously as he would have liked, but hollow and devastated is all he can really manage, and he unsticks his feet and runs.

  
He runs aimlessly, just trying to get out of public, until he finds an empty park, and leans against a tree as the panic attack fully envelops him.

  
***

  
Mel drives them over, and Josie watches the trees outside anxiously. It feels almost like déjà-vu.

  
The number of times they’d driven over to pick up Valerie for band practice, together, listening to Beyonce, laughing, watching this same scenery go past the windows.

  
This time, Mel has her phone plugged in and tuned to some old-indie internet radio station, playing some vaguely familiar indie-folk pop song from decades ago. She briefly wonders where she knows it from. An advertisement, maybe?

_  
Sleepless long nights, that is what my youth was for. Old teenage hopes are alive at your door, left you with nothing but they want some more_

  
“God, what are we listening to Mel?” She asks, scoffing.

  
Mel chuckles, looking at the road. “I know, I know, but I’ve gotten really addicted to this station. Even though they play a lot of songs with folksy instruments, which is not something I ever thought I’d be into. The boyfriend loves playing it at work, so it’s gotten into my head.”

  
Josie grins. “This is some white nonsense.”

  
“His mother’s actually Indian, so I’ll thank you to take that back,” Mel says, with a laugh.

  
“Ok, I take it back.” Josie replies with a smile.

  
“And don’t think I didn’t snoop on your music library last time, I’ve seen the Mumford and Sons albums you have.” Mel adds wickedly.

  
Josie groans. “Ugh I’ve been found out! We met them at a festival once, they were actually really nice. And I blame Archie. He got me into it on this roadtrip once. High school me is judging me so hard.”

  
“Well, high school you also didn’t have your experiences or know everything.” Mel contends.

  
Josie looks out at the passing orange-leaved trees. “She just thought she did.”

 _  
Those teenage hopes who have tears in their eyes_ _, too scared to own up to one little lie_

  
*

  
Josie follows Mel up the path to the little blue house. Flowers have been planted on the sides of the path, allowed to grow out of neat patterns, looking wilder; creepers of jasmine crawl up the left side of the house.

  
Mel knocks on the door, and motions for Josie to stay back a bit.

  
Val opens the door smiling, her son on her hip. “Hey, it’s Aunty Mel!” She tells her son happily. Then she sees Josie and her face falls.

  
“What – Mel, what is this?” She says shortly.

  
“C’mon, she just wants to talk.” Mel counters.

  
Val purses her lips. “Well I’m sorry she came all this way, but I don’t want to talk.”

  
Josie stands behind them, feeling weirdly like a child again. Her parents used to talk about her like this, towards and after the divorce, like they forgot she could understand them.

  
Mel frowns. “Look, I think you need to talk to each other. As your friend, Val, I’m asking you to just give her a few minutes to say what she came here to say.”

  
“So you guys are fine, then? You forgave her pretty quick, Mel.” Val says, sounding hurt without raising her voice, probably for the benefit of her child, currently looking around obliviously.

  
“I’m not telling you not to be mad, Val, but I’m an adult, and that means I can forgive who I want.” Mel replies, with a slight frustrated edge to her voice.

  
Val says nothing, the full force of her annoyance coming through in her stare, even though she refuses to look directly at Josie.

  
Mel sags, like she’s softening. “Val, you know I’d never do anything that I thought would hurt you. I wouldn’t do something like this unless I felt like it was going to be a good thing. I’m asking you as your friend, just _hear_ what Josie has to say. I’m not telling you how to react but just – listen.”

  
Val gives her an exasperated look, and then sighs. She looks at Josie for the first time. “Come in, then.”

  
Josie, surprised to be addressed finally, nods awkwardly. “Thank you, Val,” she says, and follows Mel onto the porch, and into the house.

  
“You’ve moved the coffee table?” Mel notes, and there must have been one before – now there’s  just a big open, carpeted space next to the couch and some children’s toys spread out next to it.

  
“Jimi’s just starting walking, and we don’t want him to hurt himself bumping into the sharp edges.” Val says, settling the boy in question down next to some coloured blocks.

  
“Jimi,” Josie repeats, inadvertently.

  
“Yeah.” Val says quietly, still settling him in.

_  
Giggling, passing the joint between each other, lying on the floor of her dad’s study. Val’s house has a much chiller vibe than her own, probably because her parents are kind of hippies – at least not how she imagines professors to be, even in the arts._

_  
Her Dad has an amazing record collection, and he’s out, so they can play music loudly._

_  
‘All along the watchtower, Princes kept the view, While all the women came and went, Barefoot servants, too”_

_  
Val gestures vaguely at the air. “God, I wanna do_ that. _If I have a son, I’m going to name him Jimi, out of respect.”_

_  
Josie laughs. “Bleugh, I’m never having children. Especially not a son. There are too many in the world already.”_

_  
Val cracks up._

  
With Jimi settled, Val turns to them.

  
“Do you want coffee or something, then?” she says, almost like she’s saying it automatically, just to be polite.

  
“I’m ok, thank-you.” Josie doesn’t accept because she’s already had one, and she’s already on thin enough ice without making Val pretend at hospitality. She also suspects that Val only offered because Mel is also here.

  
“No, thanks Val – actually I gotta head off, Mom needs me to pick Harmony up, because they took the car out, and you know, she shares it with them when she’s here –“ Mel says quickly.

  
Val frowns. “You’re not staying?”

  
Josie shoots her a worried look.

  
She looks a little uncomfortable, but says, “Uh, I can’t, I’m sorry. Harmony needs to be driven somewhere, and, sister duties and all. I’ll see you later, anyway.”

  
Then she leaves, and they’re plunged into a very awkward silence, punctuated only by the occasional gurgling of a toddler stacking blocks.

  
This is the moment to say something, if only she could remember the words she wanted to say. There was a whole lead-in. Nevertheless, every second that she’s not using to say her piece, Val is probably regretting inviting her in, so she just talks.

  
“I came here, to say I’m sorry, Val. I’m so sorry,” she says honestly, the first thing on her mind.

  
Val studies her, almost suspicious. Her face softens a little. “Ok. I forgive you for that.”

  
Val still looks closed-off, uncomfortable.

  
“But not for everything, I guess,” she persists.

  
“What do you mean? I said I forgive you. I’m not mad.” Val replies quickly.

  
The silence returns for a pause. This is not how it was supposed to go.

  
“Val, I knew you for a long time, I know your I’m-not-mad-no-really face.” Josie continues. She knows it’s probably not the best way to _not_ have an argument, but she would almost rather that then be pretend-forgiven, pretending everything’s ok again.

  
“What are you looking for, Josie? What do you want to hear from me?” Val retorts, keeping her voice low.

  
She stares at Val, who looks back in annoyance. “I wanted –“ she starts, unsure of what. “I want to try and fix things! I’m leaving here on Sunday, and I would – _hate ­_ – to leave without talking to you, Val!” she tries to keep her voice low, which is hard when she’s keyed up like this.

  
“Well you didn’t mind last time!” Val hisses back, and the hurt in her eyes viscerally reminds Josie of ten years prior, making her feel like she’s eighteen and standing in Val’s bedroom telling her again.

  
Josie’s heart sinks. Even though she wanted to do this, it already hurts too much. It’s really not been long enough since the last heartbreak, and it hurts more.

  
“I told you about it...I didn’t just _leave...”_ she half-heartedly tries to defend herself.

  
Val shakes her head. “Not in a way that counted. You never –” she breaks off, voice shaking. “- you told me as it was a done deal, as you were about to leave!”

  
Josie looks down, and looks up again. “I’m – that was such a terrible thing to do to you. To both of you, but I know I got you excited at the idea of taking the band professional. I’m sorry, you meant so much to me and I have no excuse for going behind your back,” she sighs, feeling pinpricks of tears starting again. “I was – scared. Everyone had backup plans, and that was my only plan, my only way – out. I was afraid if I didn’t take it, all of that _work,_ would be for nothing.”

  
Val doesn’t say anything, and looks at her son, still happily arranging coloured blocks. When she looks back, her eyes are misty as well.

  
“Look, I don’t care about that. _Once_ yes, I got carried away with the idea that our little band could be more than just a small-town hobby.” Val says, and pauses, like she’s looking for the words. “But I don’t regret not becoming famous or whatever. I love my life – my job is great, and I have a son I _could not_ love more, and a beautiful husband, and I wouldn’t have any of that if that guy had decided to sign us and take us to L.A.”

  
Josie holds her breath. There’s a but coming up.

  
Val frowns. “What really _hurt_ , Josie, is that you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about it. You just told me like a day before that you were moving across the country! With Archie, who you didn’t even like that much! I thought we were better friends than that.”

  
She looks away, and Josie sees her blinking.

  
This only makes Josie want to cry more. “We were – you were one of the _only_ people I trusted in this shitty town, I don’t know what I would have done without you!”

  
“You still asked Cheryl to go with you.” Val responds unexpectedly.

  
Josie is surprised, speechless for a moment. She’d learned a long time ago that it’s hard to keep secrets in small communities, but that was a very private moment and she briefly wonders if Cheryl told her. It doesn’t matter.

  
“That was different... and I – I was desperate. I knew if I asked _you_ I’d have to tell you what I did, and I was afraid of what you’d say because I knew you’d be right...would you even have come, if I’d asked?” she asks tenuously.

  
Val brushes at her eyes again. “Probably not. You, me, and my ex-boyfriend? While I hang around watching you guys become famous? Would’ve been a bit too weird.” Val says, attempting and failing to sound truly flippant.

  
“Well it’s not like she came with me. Karma was getting a head start.” Josie replies quietly.

  
Val looks over at Jimi again. “So I guess you came to get her back, then? I can’t imagine you were just super keen to go to this reunion...”

  
This is the thing that breaks the dam of tears for her, and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away.

  
Val looks alarmed, then remorseful. “Did...something happen?” she asks tentatively.

  
Josie shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not the reason I came back, I came back for you and Mel – God, I betrayed you guys, scared or not, and I’ve regretted hurting you guys _every day_ for the past ten years. You were my first real friend here –  you weren’t just my friend, you were my sister, Val – I loved you!”

  
Val’s crying silently at this. “I loved you, too, Jose! That’s what was the worst thing. I missed you even when I was so _damn angry at you._ I used to wonder if you’d come back home, and maybe we could talk.”

  
Josie shakes her head, still crying herself. “I missed you! But I was too scared. We left things in such a bad way, and we had so many distractions it was easy to say we were too busy to come back. And then too much time had passed and we got even more afraid. God, I _wish_ I had.”

  
“I wish you had, but at least you’re here now.” Val says, wiping her eyes. “I really missed you,” she says, embracing Josie in a tight hug.

  
Josie hugs her back just as tightly, still crying softly into her shoulder. “Not more than I missed you.”

  
Their hug is only broken by a tiny, soft little toddler’s hand passing at the edge of Josie’s dress, before passing on to grab at Val’s leg.

  
“Hello!” Val says affectionately, looking at him with absolute joy. “Are you jealous of all the attention Josie’s getting? Up here, then,” she says, picking him up and putting him on her lap, heading off some dangerous-sounding whimpers.

  
Even though she’s pretty sure she’s never going to have a child of her own, for various reasons, watching Val with hers she can’t help beaming. She knows Jimi will never be starved of affection from a parent, or at least one of them.

  
“Sorry, he gets upset if he’s not the centre of attention at least once an hour. And that’s him on good behaviour.” Val jokes.

  
Josie looks at him. She doesn’t love babies, because mostly they look like aliens, and she’s never met Val’s husband so she can’t judge for looks – but she has to admit that he’s a cute baby.

  
“He has your eyes. Or at least – the colour. That’s unusual.” Josie realises out loud.

  
Val nods. “Yeah we weren’t expecting that, it’s supposed to be a recessive gene. My Dad likes to say it’s something to remember him by.” She smiles at this, and presses a kiss to Jimi’s head.

  
Josie smiles. “Sounds like your Dad. So, this mysterious husband, do I know him?”

  
Val beams, and looks excited. “That is a _story.”_

  
“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” Josie says, “Go ahead,”

  
“Ok, so you remember senior year when I had a crush on that guy...”

  
***

  
Jughead drives to work, like usual. He tries to throw himself into writing, putting his headphones on and listening to music in the hopes he can distract his brain into working.

  
It doesn’t work. He stares at the screen blankly, and doesn’t take any information in. He can’t quite get the look on Archie’s face out of his mind, how anxious he was, how...taken aback, he looked. Why was he surprised? What did he expect?

  
He focuses on the screen until it’s just pinpricks of light, blurring into each other, making his eyes hurt. He shakes his head, and gets up to make a coffee. Maybe that’s what he needs.

  
He works like a zombie, doing work that he doesn’t even remember. Getting up to make another coffee, mainly for something to shake his brain up, he sees Betty in the break room.

  
“Betty, I didn’t see you come in.” He says, surprised.

  
“Well you were pretty focused, I didn’t want to interrupt.” She replies, but not unkindly, as she makes her own cup of coffee.

  
“How are you feeling? I thought you weren’t coming in today?” He asks, concerned. Kevin and he had spent last night hanging out with her, consoling her after the disaster yesterday had apparently been for them both.

  
She smiles over-brightly, a look he’s very familiar with, the patented Betty Cooper “of-course-everything’s-fine-nothing’s-the-matter” look.

  
“Of course not. Silly thought. I’ve got work to do. And  I can’t just sit around my apartment, thinking about...” She trails off, and turns back to finishing her coffee.

  
“Betty...” He says quietly, concerned.

  
She turns back to him, smile a little less bright. “I’m ok, really. I’m tough. And I have great friends, who drop everything to make me feel better when I’m sad.”

  
He smiles at this. It’s small, but it’s genuine. “Well I’m always there for it.”

  
She looks closer at him. “How are you though? You were looking kind of unfocused when you came in.”

  
He sees Archie’s face in that moment, but pushes it away. “Ah, just didn’t get time to make coffee this morning yet. I’m dying.” He lies, but she seems distracted enough to accept it.

  
*

  
“Jug? Jug, Hello?” He suddenly realises Betty’s voice beside him, and looks around.

  
He blinks. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What were you saying?”

  
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Kevin and I are getting lunch, might be nice for you to come with us.”

  
He shakes his head. “No, uh, you go without me. I’ve gotta catch up on...” he gestures vaguely at the computer screen.

  
She squints at his screen. “Yeah, I think you might need the break anyway. Come on.”

  
He shakes his head, but grabs his bag and puts on his jacket.

  
*

  
They’re at the cafe, at a table outside per Betty’s preference, but the early chill already creeping into the November air has driven all the other customers inside.

  
He can’t focus on the conversation. He can’t focus on anything today. It sort of makes him angry, but the righteous fury he felt earlier has mostly subsided, leaving in its dregs only shock, confusion and the beginnings of guilt.

  
He zones back in on Betty saying, “You have to tell Jude thank-you from me for sharing you, he’s been very understanding.”

  
Kevin smiles at her, warmly. “Yeah, he’s been very good about it. But if I never get to see my friends, then what’s the point?” He pauses. “It has been _interesting,_ though, having to explain all of the high school drama to someone who didn’t grow up with us.”

  
Betty grimaces. “Yeah, I can imagine,” she pauses to drink her coffee. “So is Cheryl back at work?”

  
He realises this is something he cares about too. “Yeah, how is she?” He jumps in, and they both look mildly surprised he’s rejoined the conversation.

  
Kevin looks sympathetic. “She’s back at work. Said that time she broke her arm didn’t stop her from coming in, so why should a broken heart?”

  
Betty frowns slightly, looking down.

  
“You were with her Wednesday night, right? Is she...doing better?” Jughead asks Kevin. From what he’d told them yesterday, it had been pretty bad.

  
Kevin nods. “We had a long talk, I think she’ll be ok,” he sighs. “I have no idea how she’s going to deal with this reunion though. What a nightmare.”

  
Both Betty and Jughead make similar derisive noises of assent.

  
“I don’t think I’m going to that, surprisingly.” He says, with a heavy note of sarcasm.

  
Betty stirs her coffee absent-mindedly, frowning. “I said I’d help Cheryl set up, and hand out name badges. I am regretting that promise right about now.”

  
“Maybe you can sneak out early?” Kevin suggests, with a sympathetic smile.

  
He had only agreed to come after Cheryl had cajoled him, when he’d mentioned he wasn’t thinking of going. _“You must though. You must. You must!”_ She kept repeating until he finally realised she wouldn’t listen to any disagreement and gave in out of exhaustion. Betty had said, “You can hang out with Kevin and I, it’ll be fun!” and some small petty part of his mind was bitterly satisfied to have been proved right that it was going to not be fun at all.

  
Because there were two equally unappealing options. One, For some inexplicable reason Archie, Josie and Veronica would show up at their high school auditorium full of the high school students they left in their dust years ago, and at least three people they really didn’t want to see and it would be horribly public and awkward; or Two, more likely, they’d have already packed up and gone back to their world. They could dismiss it as a mistake, a ridiculous whim they’d had and forget all about it, while Jughead, Betty and Cheryl would be left here again, having had their lives upended again, facing the gossip of their ex-school cohort wondering why those amazingly famous old friends of theirs had come to town especially for the event and then up and left mysteriously.

  
“Jug? Earth to Jug?” He realises Betty’s talking to him, and he blinks and looks at her. Both she and Kevin are looking at him, oddly.

  
“Sorry, I spaced out.” He replies, but Betty gives him a concerned look. 

  
“You’ve been spacing out all morning, what’s going on with you? Did something happen? I tried to tell Archie yesterday he should give it another shot after your fight...oh _no,_ what happened?” She says, with some disappointment.

  
How to answer that one? He still didn’t know what to think about it himself.

  
His pause in trying to think of the right way to describe it only seems to make both her and Kevin more worried looking.

  
“Uh, well he did contact me trying to make up the fight, on Thursday.” He says carefully.

  
“But?” Betty prompts.

  
He looks away. “We fought again.” He looks back. “Actually we decided that if we only ever fight, than what’s the point in trying to fix it? It’s not like it matters, he’s going to go home, and if we can’t stop fighting when we’re in the same place...” He breaks off, wordlessly frustrated.

  
Betty sighs softly. “Why didn’t you say anything yesterday? You let me go on and on about my stupid problems all night, I would’ve cared to know about yours.”

  
“You’re my friend too, Jug, I didn’t mean to leave your problems out.” Kevin adds, still looking concerned.

  
He shakes his head.”Don’t worry Kev, it’s fine. Well it’s not – I just wanted you to feel better, Betts. I didn’t want to burden you with the same repetitive drama, verse eighty-seven same as the first and all that.”

  
Except for this morning. Which was a completely different song, in a different language.

  
“Aw, Jug. You should have said something anyway.” Betty says, empathetically.

  
“Well, I’m sorry anyway, Jug. It’s a shit situation.” Kevin pronounces, and Jughead is suddenly grateful to have him there. Not that he hadn’t been happy to see him, but just to have his sympathetic-but-matter-of-fact attitude to comfort is making him feel a little better.

  
Betty’s too good at her job, and squints in puzzlement, thinking. “You weren’t like this last night though. Did something happen after you left or...before work or something?”

  
His stomach drops. She’s going to ask until she finds out now. But maybe the reason he can’t focus on anything today is because he’s trying to work through what happened with only his own input, like trying to play a game against yourself – you’re never challenged, and you’re not satisfied until you can get someone to play against you. It’s why he preferred reading – it’s much less pathetic looking to be doing something designed for a single person than to be playing handball by yourself against a wall.

  
He realises he wants to ask her opinion about it, if only so he can move on and get his brain back. Then he registers Kevin, and hesitates. Then he thinks about it, and realises if anyone has an insight to it, it might just be him.

  
They’re both looking at him, both concerned.

  
“Yeeaah...” He says slowly, wondering whether he should just shut up already.

  
Now both Kevin and Betty look a little confused. Maybe he looks weird right now. If he does it’s because he’s trying to figure out how to put it.

  
He looked between them, and then looked down at his empty coffee cup.

  
“So I thought, maybe Archie might decide to go back home. It’s not like Josie wouldn’t have reasons for wanting to leave town. I kinda convinced myself that they probably did, and I wasn’t likely to see him again anytime soon.”

  
He looks at them, and they’re confused, definitely still concerned, but unmistakably curious too now.

  
“So I’m leaving for work, and I’m already going to be late, and he’s outside my apartment. Looking like – just like he hasn’t slept, and his eyes are red, and his hair’s a mess. My first thought was that he was on something, but he was totally sober.” He’s filling up the space with words, stalling, afraid to rip the bandaid off.

  
Betty and Kevin look gripped, like they know it’s not the same fight, like they know something’s changed but they don’t know what. He has no idea what they’ll say.

  
“So he says he really needs to talk to me, that he has something important to tell me.” The memory floats to the surface of his mind again.

  
The words beat a tattoo in the back of it.

_  
IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyousofuckingmuchiloveyou_

  
“And?” Betty asks, and then looks guilty about it.

  
He gulps. This was a stupid thing to bring up. He can’t deal with this right now, he needs to get back to work soon.

  
“And he...told me he loved me.” He says faintly.

  
Betty and Kevin’s jaws drop in unison.

  
They’re all quiet.

  
“Well, shit.” Kevin says, stunned. “Like, just to clarify because I’ve been burned before, not like _love you like a brother, in a platonic bro way_?”

  
Jughead opens his mouth, then closes it. “The words _in love with you_ were used, so I think...” he trails off. Kevin nods, mouth still slightly ajar.

  
“Well, I never...thought he’d say it. Wow.” Kevin says, almost to himself.

  
He looks at Kevin sharply. “You did not _know_ this.”

  
Kevin looks at him apologetically. “I did not. I had...an inkling. A hypothesis.”

  
When he doesn’t reply, Kevin continues, looking genuinely contrite. “Call it a small town queer thing. I _know_ you know what I’m talking about, Jug. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was making fun of you though.”

  
He nods his forgiveness, knowing it’s not really Kevin making him anxious. “Fair enough, I guess.”

  
He looks at Betty, who has been quiet. She looks like something has occurred to her, and not as surprised as he would have thought.

  
She looks at him, puzzled. “So, what did you say?”

  
He looks down, and then up. “I might have...yelled at him a bit. A fair bit.”

  
In the moment he had felt incredibly justified but now he just felt awkward and confused about it. It was like being seventeen all over again.

  
Betty sighs, and gives him a look he would describe as her “I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed” look. In another universe where she hadn’t been destined to be a journalist, she would have made a great elementary school teacher.

  
“Can I ask...about what?” she says carefully.

  
He sighs. “I don’t know. I know that at the time I was furious, but –“ He breaks off. “You know I’m not good with surprises!”

  
Kevin nods. “That’s true.”

  
He shakes his head. “I just know that I was angry because it was so far out of the realm of what I was expecting...I thought we were done! As friends! And he - and they just came into town, upending all of our lives in less than _six days_ , and hurting my _friends and I just –_ “

  
Betty reaches over to take the napkin he’s been absent-mindedly shredding out of his hands. “I’m not going to pretend that – I don’t wish that _certain people_ hadn’t decided to get their nostalgia fix watching old movies instead of – “ she breaks off, and Kevin takes the even-more shredded napkin off her. She takes a breath, and looks at him.

  
“It’s so nice, that you’re angry on my behalf. But you don’t need to fight my battles for me. Especially not if you’re doing it to avoid thinking about why you’re really angry.”

  
He considers it, and his heart sinks as he realises she’s right.

  
“ _Fuck._ ”

  
This is what he’d needed to tell someone for – because he couldn’t see past it himself. Under the anger, was the fear. He is starting to feel slightly panicked.

  
“Well I guess it doesn’t matter now, I pretty much put a stop to anything.” He says, trying to be flippant, but not feeling it.

  
Betty frowns. “Don’t say that – have you tried to talk to him since?”

  
“He literally ran away from me as fast as he could, I wouldn’t be surprised if he got onto the next flight to L.A.” He retorts, feeling annoyed but knowing it’s not at her.

  
“But you don’t know!”

  
“But it doesn’t matter!”

  
“Do you love him, though?” Kevin cuts through their argument matter-of-factly. He gives Jughead a knowing look. “Or I should say, do you still love him?”

  
That shuts them up both up.

  
He tries to reply but finds his throat dry. He takes a sip of water. Betty and Kevin watch him closely.

  
“i – I – yes.” He croaks out.

  
Kevin gives him a fierce look. “Then you need to tell him.”

  
“I can’t –“ He says quietly, panicked. “He won’t –“

  
They’re inching closer to the baseline fear he’s been ignoring, not thinking this whole time.

  
“Everything’s pretty bad for me, and Cheryl, but you have a _chance_ Jug.” Betty interjects suddenly, sadly. “Don’t you want to just _see_?”

  
“I can’t!” He bursts out. “I can’t – _tell him_ that if he’s just going to leave again. It really will kill me.”

  
Betty looks at him so sadly, with so much empathy, it hurts and he looks away.

  
After a few moments silence, Kevin speaks. “You’ll do what you’re going to...but take it from me,  it’s usually worth letting someone _know_ , even if they leave, than not saying it, and spending the rest of your life wondering what might have happened.”

  
This hits him like a smack in the face. Or a bucket of a ice water emptied over a drunk man.

  
“You’re pretty wise, Kevin.” He says, with shaky humour.

  
Kevin smiles. “I know. I’m constantly underestimated.”

  
This makes him smile, a little. Betty smiles at him, reaching out a comforting hand to cover his.

  
“I have to go back to work, I have some things to think about. Thanks, both of you, for dragging me out to lunch.” He says, looking at them.

  
“Always here for you, don’t forget that.” Betty replies.

  
“Anytime.” Kevin says, smiling.

  
***

  
Sometime after she gets back from lunch, Penny stops by Betty’s desk.

  
“Have you filed that story yet? Just trying to get a time frame.” She says briskly, but not unkindly. She’s a good boss, experienced from years working at a larger paper in Lake Charles, lenient without being a pushover.

  
She smiles apologetically. “Just doing that now.”

  
Penny nods. “Good to hear. Also, I was going to email you but I’m here now – your leave for Monday the 23rd is approved. I mean you barely have to ask of course, Betty, you barely ever take a sick day but you know how it is, gotta do the thing properly.” She smiles at Betty.

  
Betty nods in agreement. “Checks and balances, I know.”

  
“Exactly. Well, I won’t keep you.” Penny says decisively, and walks off.

  
Her mind races, thinking about it. Before this week it had seemed like a tentative possibility, something in the future in the back of her mind and then suddenly it’s all actually happening. If she wants it too. She can’t quite decide if she does or not.

  
“Betty, hello?” she realises Jughead’s talking to her and she swings around to face him.

  
“Sorry, just thinking.”

  
He smirks. “And you call me spacey. What’s happening on the 23rd?”

  
She looks at him, confused, and realises that he of course overhead her conversation earlier. She feels a jolt of panic.

  
“Uh, I have an appointment. A dental appointment.” She amends quickly.

  
He raises his eyebrows. “You need all day?”

  
She continues on with the lie, not ready to have the conversation right now. “I have to go to New York for it. It’s more of a specialist thing, I don’t think old Mr Edelstein really has the specific area of study for it.” It’s becoming a complicated lie, but that’s a problem for Future Betty to deal with.

  
He looks concerned. “Sounds intense. Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you, and drive you back?”

  
She shakes her head, a little too quickly,  but it’s a knee-jerk movement. “No, I’ll be fine. I couldn’t take you away from work anyway.”

  
He looks worried, and then gives her a knowing look. “Betty its ok, I know about the interview. And you forget you can’t lie to me.”

  
She pales. That’s true. He knows her too well. “How?” she asks, stunned.

  
He looks a little guilty at this. “I was over at your desk to steal your stapler, and I saw an email pop up from the New York Times. _Interview_ was one of the words I glimpsed before the alert went away. I kind of put it together. I’m sorry for snooping, though it was kind of an accident.”

  
She sighs, cringing. “If I forgive you for snooping my emails, will you forgive me for lying to you?”

  
He narrows his eyes, not meanly but like he’s trying to assess her. “That depends. Why were you lying?”

  
She looks away for a moment, feeling uncomfortable. “I don’t know. It’s kind of a big deal, and I wasn’t even really sure I was going to go – “

  
“What?” he breaks in, incredulously. “Why the hell _wouldn’t_ you?”

  
She gives him a frustrated look. “There are... _reasons_ , to stay here,” she says, quietly, so she won’t alert half the office. She can’t seem to think of the right words. “I like this job a lot. And Mom, Polly, and the twins are here –“

  
He closes his eyes and sighs, like he’s figured something out. “And me.”

  
She falters. “I mean, of course. You’re part of my family here.”

  
He catches her eye. “Betty, _please_ tell me you weren’t thinking of blowing this interview off to stay at the _Chronicle_ with me.” He says wearily.

  
“No, I just –” she protests, but at the bullshit-calling look he gives her, she gives up. “I just,” she looks at him, full of care for him, hoping he can feel that through her eyes. “It’s not fair. I promised to be here for you, I promised to be part of your family here! I refuse to be someone who breaks that promise to you. You’ve had enough of that.”

  
He shakes his head and looks at her, seriously. “The fact you even think that means a lot to me, _really_ , but that promise is old. It was comforting once, but it wasn’t supposed to lock you into staying here.” He sighs. “As your friend, Betty, I refuse to let you use me as an excuse if you’re too afraid to go for this.”

  
She feels too emotional for being at work. “But it’s a big shift! And I’d miss you and everyone so much. And what if I’m not cut out to live in the city? Not to mention, I might not get it, so this could be a totally moot –“

  
“Do you want the job?” he asks, simply.

  
She thinks about it. “Yes. I really do,” she replies, feeling somehow guilty.

  
He smiles. “Then stop freaking out about it, and go for your interview, and if you get it – which I’m sure you will – then you take it from there. It’s not like New York’s that far away anyway.”

  
She smiles gratefully at him. “Have I told you today what an incredibly decent person you are, Jug?”

  
His face clouds. “No, but I’m not so sure anyway.”

  
She looks at him, wondering again if she’ll be able to leave him, if it stays like this. “I know it. But my advice – listen to that album. Might provide some insight. Maybe.”

  
He looks at her like he hadn’t thought of that.

  
“Thanks, Betts. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead in New York, you know that right?”

  
She smiles, feeling a huge weight off her shoulders.

  
***  
  
Jughead decides he may as well give up and go home early. He was barely keeping focus on anything before lunch but he’s been looking at his screen for hours since Betty’s suggestion, and he hasn’t absorbed a thing or been able to complete any meaningful amount of work.

  
“I’m going home, I think. Penny said I could leave whenever as long as I have my article in by Monday night.” He says to Betty, logging his computer off.

  
She smiles at him. “Alright, have a good night. I guess I’ll see you Saturday?”

  
He grimaces. “Please don’t make me go, I’m going to hate it.”

  
She looks at him beseechingly. “Jug, you’ve gotta go to keep me sane! I promised Cheryl I’d help, and I really don’t want to blow her off right now. C’mon, for your best friend?”

  
He sighs, overdramatically. “Fine, I’ll go. But I won’t enjoy it!”

  
“That’s the spirit!” she says, smiling as she turns back to her computer.

  
*

  
Jughead drives down Main Street, and sees the Blossom & Keller Event Planning office coming up ahead.

  
Kevin’s words about Cheryl float through his mind and he instinctively slows down and finds himself parking outside.

  
It’s probably unnecessary, and she’ll probably give him that _look,_ but he suddenly feels like he should at least – check in on her. They are friends, after all. It’s not like his other friendships with Betty and Kevin, but then again neither are those like each other. He makes up his mind to get out and at least try and see how she is.

  
He walks in, and is greeted by the receptionist. “Hi! Do you have an appointment, or...” she says nicely, even though she looks like she’s confused as to why he’d be looking for their services. Or maybe he’s just being paranoid. Gotta love that poor kid mentality – you never really get out of it, even when you have a job, an income, a roof over your head, it just stays with you. Is that maitre’d judging the clothes he’s worn to a fancy restaurant? Is that shop assistant pursing her lips because he came into an upmarket boutique with Betty? Is it just memories from longer ago superimposed onto normal situations by his anxious mind?

  
“Uh, no I was just hoping to see Cheryl? I’m a – a friend of hers.” He asks inelegantly, but she nods.

  
“And who should I say is asking?” she asks.

  
He sighs internally. “Just say...Jughead’s here.”

  
If the receptionist is fazed by this odd name, she doesn’t let it affect her professional manner.

  
“Jughead. Ok, I’ll try and see if she’s free.” The receptionist hesitates, and then says in an undertone, “She’s in a bit of a...mood, right now, just a heads up.”

  
He nods. “I went through twelve years of school with her, I’m prepared,” he says conspiratorially, making the receptionist smile guiltily as she dials Cheryl’s line.

  
After talking to her for a few seconds, the receptionist hangs up and smiles kindly at him. “She’s not with any clients currently and she says she has a few minutes.”

  
“Thanks.” He replies, walking into the office.

  
Cheryl’s office is at the back, and the office workers don’t pay him much attention as he walks past them. Walking past a glass-walled meeting room, he sees Kevin’s in a meeting with what he assumes are clients.

 

He knocks on Cheryl’s door. She doesn’t answer but he can hear her on the phone to someone. Still, she knows he’s here, so he opens the door.

  
“No, they can’t be at the same table. Why? Because it will cause an international incident – do you think I’m joking? Do you want to be responsible for an international incident? Do you want that to be on you?”

  
He feels bad for whoever’s on the receiving end. She sees him and nods. “Good, then fix it!” she barks into her phone, and hangs up.

  
Although he would never say it to her, she looks tired. Her hair is up in a businesslike ponytail, her vibrant hair as polished-looking as ever, matching her burgundy turtleneck. She had never been the sort of person to stop making an effort externally, even if she ached internally. But he knows her well enough to see the swelling is going down in her eyelids, sadness hidden by extra application of makeup, red lipstick like a shield.

  
She regards him. “I confess, I’m a little confused about the reason for this visit? I’ve got a few minutes and then I have to get back to dealing with those Swedish morons.”

  
He wonders whether this was a bad idea. Well, he’s here now. “I’m sure you don’t – need this, but I just wanted to see how you were, I guess.”

  
She looks taken aback for a moment, then her expression turns calm.

  
“I guess Kevin told you?” she asks, resignedly.

  
“Not much. Just that he was worried.” Jughead replies honestly. “If you’d rather not, I get it...”

  
She sighs. “What do you know?”

  
“Just that you had some kind of big fight with Josie.” He replies, and it’s basically the truth because Kevin didn’t betray much detail of what the fight was about.

  
Her eye twitches, microscopically. She looks at him, almost suspicious but with something soft in her eyes too.

  
“And you came to see if I was ok?” she asks.

  
He nods. “I’ve just – it’s been a long week for me, too. Thought you might need a friend. I can go, I’m sure you’re busy...”

  
She frowns at him. “I’m always busy, but that doesn’t mean I want you to leave.”

  
Her expression softens. “Thanks for coming.”

  
He smiles a little, awkwardly. “So...how are you doing?”

  
She looks away momentarily, and sets her lips in a thin line. “I’ve got a business to run. As I remembered yesterday, I’m not the kind of person who sits around in her apartment, thinking of everything she could have done differently if she’d just –” she breaks off, and takes a breath.

  
“Whatever, it’s done now. Spilled milk and all that,” she looks at him. “How are you? You said you’d had a long week?” she asks, curiously.

  
He’s uncomfortably reminded of this morning. “It’s not important,” he says quickly, “So this fight – you can’t try and fix things? _I know_ that sounds stupid and obvious, but...maybe she’ll surprise you.” Definitely, if she’s anything like her bandmate.

  
He half expects her to excoriate him for such obvious advice, which he only scrambled to change the subject from his own problems, but instead her expression saddens.

  
“No, it was...pretty bad. I touched a nerve, a thread _I knew_ not to pull –“ she breaks off for a moment. “- I don’t think _I’m sorry_ is going to mean much.”

  
He looks at her, remembering something vaguely, a distant pinprick of hurt. “It goes further than nothing at all. Trust me on that one.”

  
She takes this in quietly.

  
He hesitates, and then speaks. “This isn’t like you, though.”

  
She looks at him suspiciously.

  
“The Cheryl Blossom I know goes after what she wants doggedly. She doesn’t give up. I know, because it _frustrates the hell out of me_ , sometimes.”

  
Cheryl smirks a little at this.

  
“So look, what do I know about it – I’m not the best person to give out relationship advice. But I think you should try again. You’re Cheryl _Fucking_ Blossom.” He finishes, not having expected to make such a speech.

  
She looks at him, eyes still narrowed but smiling. “You’re totally – right. I just have to think of how to get her to hear me out...”

  
The wheels are already turning behind her eyes. He wonders whether this is his cue to leave when she looks at him with the same curious look as before.

  
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to change the subject, though. You helped me, come on, what’s your problem?”

  
He doesn’t say anything, regarding her with vague suspicion. It’s unlikely that she’d pull out her old early-high school trick and immediately relay anything gossipy that she heard to everyone she could, but the time they used to talk about this exact issue was a long time ago now.

  
She gives him an unimpressed look. “All these years, you still don’t trust me?”

  
He cringes, a little. “No, of course I do. It’s just been a long time since we talked about it...”

  
“So you have caught up with him this week, then?” she says, swiftly.

  
He almost laughs. “You could say that, yes,” he says wearily.

  
“So, what did he do?” she asks, matter-of-factly.

  
He almost chokes. “How do you know he did anything? Maybe we just have nothing in common.”

  
She scoffs. “One, please, you guys were always too dramatic about your friendship for that, and I can talk about drama. Two – you always orbited him. Of course he did something, and it’s knocked you out of orbit again.”

  
He’s stunned quiet for a moment at this starkly accurate summation of their complex relationship. “Well maybe it’s something I didn’t react well to. Maybe I’m in the wrong too.” He says opaquely.

  
She looks at him, wonderingly. “What was it?”

  
He grimaces. “It’s just kind of –“

  
“C’mon you can tell me –“ she breaks off, and takes her breath. “But you don’t _have_ to. I’m trying to self monitor my impulses better.”

  
He looks at her. She looks honestly like she’s trying to help. He’s half-dreading the idea of, and half-curious at the idea of her advice on this.

  
He sighs. Why not, at this point. “So we’ve been talking. Trying to hang out.”

  
She nods, interested.

  
“And fighting. More than once. The kind of fights that make you regret ever trying to fix anything in the first place, because you’ve just made it irreparably worse.”

  
“I know what you mean,” she adds, quietly.

  
He looks around, stalling, then looks back at her. “So, I thought we were pretty much done. And then he – he turns up, at my front door, and says he...loves me?”

  
She looks mildly taken aback for a second then nods. “First of all, Kevin owes me like ten dollars, because I called it _years_ ago.”

  
“Oh my god,” he says faintly, looking away. This was definitely a terrible idea.

  
She catches his eye when he looks back. “Secondly, I don’t think you’re as confused by this as you act. Or maybe you think yourself that you are, but you’re not. I’m sure you know why he said it, it’s you that’s gotta work out how you feel about it.”

  
He kind of appreciates her blunt, matter-of-fact assessment. It’s definitely challenging, but it gives him something tangible to work through.

  
“So I’m assuming you didn’t reply in the affirmative, then?” she asks.

  
“Nope,” he replies quickly. “I yelled at him for trying to ruin my life. So yeah, I think I pretty much ended that. I think I’ve wrecked any chance...”

  
She lets out a somewhat bitter laugh, and he frowns, feeling like he’s been slapped in the face. “What?”

  
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry Jughead, I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just –“ she pauses, looking pained. “I _had_ Josie, and I ruined it completely by myself. I gained her trust completely and lost it completely within the course of a few hours, and I don’t know if she’d ever consider forgiving me. But he loves you. Even if you yelled at him, I don’t think that changes it. Even with someone as easily-distracted as I remember him being.”

  
He stares at her. “Thank you, Cheryl. I have to go now.” He realises.

  
She smirks. “Hopefully at least one of us can be successful.”

  
“Follow my advice.” He reminds her, turning.

  
“Take your own!” she calls after him, a laugh in her voice.

  
***

  
Betty gets home from work and throws her bag on the couch.

  
It has been a _week._ She’s never been so glad to get home on a Friday night, it feels like it’s taken five months to get here from the weekend instead of five days.

  
She eyes the fridge and wonders whether it’s too early to have a beer. She’s not a heavy drinker generally, but it’s nearly five on a Friday afternoon, it’s been a long week, and she feels like she deserves a drink.

  
She decides on it.

  
Tonight will be a chill-out night. She’s going to order too much Indian food – somehow it’s impossible to ever order the right amount, but then you get leftovers – put her feet up and watch some comfort movies. Nothing romantic though, of course. Maybe that one Jughead likes, with the small English town and the mysterious murders that the incompetent police mark as accidents. She can relate.

  
It’s gory in parts, but it _is_ a comedy. That’s exactly what she’s feeling right now. She’ll have to ask him what it’s called again.

  
She cracks open the beer, and sits on the couch with it and a book she’s reading. It’s one of her old Nancy Drews but she can’t be bothered with anything too mentally taxing right now. Plus, they’re kind of her nostalgic happy place.

  
She’s surprised when she hears a knocking at the door. Probably Jughead. Or possibly, one of the twins, but they should be with Polly. She hopes suddenly nothing bad has happened.

  
But of course, she should know better by now. The universe is apparently not done punching her in the gut.

  
Veronica Lodge has once again taken her by surprise, and is standing in front of her, in the hallway of her apartment building. Somehow even though she looks apprehensive, and her eyes are a bit swollen-looking and red from what seems to be both crying and a lack of sleep, she still looks irritatingly pulled together. It almost makes her madder.

  
She crosses her arms and sets her lips, very aware that this is a behaviour she’s picked up from her mom, but if ever she needed to channel the scariest, most-tight-lipped she could be it was now.

  
“What are you doing here? Did I not make myself clear yesterday?” she says coldly.

  
Veronica nods quickly. “You did. And I thought about it, and you were right,” she pauses. “Even if I didn’t mean to doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you. I’m really sorry about it.”

  
Betty wants to look away, or hear this apology from behind a door or something, because it’s not fair that she has to be subjected to a talented actress’s genuine-looking remorseful expression, eyes deep, dark pools of regret. That’s how she gives in always.

  
Veronica shivers. “Can I just come in for a minute? It’s not much warmer in this hallway than outside right now.”

  
She looks away in frustration. She should just say no, and tell her to leave. But of course, she can’t.

  
“Fine, five minutes. But don’t –“ she relents, annoyed and finds she doesn’t know how to finish her sentence. She steps away from the doorway to allow her to enter.

  
“Thanks, and sure I won’t – I won’t do make any sudden movements, or anything.” Veronica says gratefully, entering. Betty can’t tell if she’s serious.

  
Betty speaks first this time, feeling tired. “It’s nice that you’re sorry, I guess. But I thought I made myself pretty definitively clear yesterday, and it doesn’t help that hurt to see you again. I need some – time, to recover from it. So I don’t really know what you’re doing here, Veronica.”

  
Veronica looks around the apartment, smiles a little sadly, and looks back to Betty.

  
“You have a good life here, I respect that. I didn’t to come back and mess you up like a bull in an - emotional china shop. I really, really didn’t. I just wanted – to see how you were,” she smiles again, small and wistful.  


Betty’s not feeling like fighting, but she’s not feeling like being the one with the silver linings and the-everything’s-fine-no--really attitude either right now. “Honestly, a lot better before all of you blew into town trying to ‘fix’ things. Before you –“ she breaks off.

  
Veronica nods, looking understanding but hurt, not breaking eye contact. “I know. I made a mess of things. I came here to say that you were wrong about one thing.”

  
“Oh, really?” she says with indignant surprise.

  
“You said that I thought you were just some kind of pit stop here. Like, I could just hang out with you while ‘I figured out if I loved my boyfriend’.” Betty remembers the words. She frowns, but Veronica seems determined. And from past experience, a determined Veronica is hard to turn away from.

  
She doesn’t break eye contact. “I’ve had very little sleep, and I’m exhausted, but I got some on the 9:30 flight to New York today.”

  
Betty is momentarily so confused she forgets to be angry. “You went back home? Why are you... back? You’ve been on two flights today?”

  
She’s given Veronica quite a wide berth, not trusting herself to get closer this time. She can see in Veronica’s gaze how much she wants close the physical distance between them, at least a little, but how she’s also holding herself back, trying to respect boundaries.

  
“I wasn’t going back per se, I had to see someone. I had to see Jack.” Veronica answers, and Betty’s stomach drops involuntarily at his name. Even though he’s probably not the worst, and a stranger to her, she hates him for everything he represents.

  
Veronica looks a little surprised at something, but doesn’t elaborate. “Jack and I had a long talk, and I broke off our engagement.” Betty’s heart, again involuntarily, jumps. She keeps her expression annoyed though, trying to conceal her reaction. This might not mean anything.

  
“I think it was for the best for him too. I hope so. I just thought you should...know.” Veronica says, apprehensive but somehow looking cautiously hopeful.

  
“Why...from what I know you had a longer relationship than anything we had – you were going to _marry_ him...”she protests, almost finding herself lost for words.

  
Veronica shakes her head, with a frustrated chuckle. “God, because you were wrong! I didn’t see you as a stopover on the way to being with him – I just never got over you, Betty! I didn’t realise it, fully, until I saw you again but like –“ she pauses, looking searchingly at Betty.

  
Betty might be holding a breath, she doesn’t know.

  
Veronica looks at her sadly, intensely. “I think I’ve been living in a bubble world since we broke up. I don’t really have non-famous friends because I can’t really explain what it’s like. I have acquaintances, I try not to treat my crew snootily and I get along with people, but the people I’m around mostly are just like me. In the same bubble where all of this shit matters, that _really fucking doesn’t._   And I didn’t realise how much I was in a bubble until I saw you again. It was like that first night, in the diner, all over again but so much worse because at least then I hadn’t disappointed you yet.” She swallows, eyes watering.

  
Betty lets the breath she’s been holding out. She can feel her eyes brimming too. “Then why didn’t you _fight_ for me? I tried for us!”

  
Veronica’s silently crying again. “I made a mistake! After that whole misunderstanding, and then that last day, I just thought you were done. And I was afraid, and it was easier to let you go than keep it alive – Northwestern just felt so far from NYU, and it just felt like we were _barely_ together anyway. But I was stupid. I _wish –_ I should have fought harder for you.”

  
Betty finds it a moment before she can even say anything. “It felt like – you weren’t _happy_ but, grateful to be rid of the last of your ties to your shitty, small town life, like it was just a bad dream you could forget about!”

  
She can feel herself crying now. Her eyes still hurt from yesterday.

  
Veronica makes a hurt, choked –off noise. “No, no, God, never. This town _is_ weird, and coming here I was convinced it would terrible, but living here was _honestly_ one of the best periods of my life. How could I ever _regret you,_ Betty Cooper?”

  
Betty wants so badly to cross the space between them, but something stops her.

  
“I want –“ she begins, “I want to trust you. But I’m not sure I can handle losing you again.”

  
Veronica looks at her very softly, eyes shining with emotion. “I can’t promise not to hurt you again. No one can, honestly. But _honestly,_  I swear I will never intentionally cause you pain, and I will always try to do better for you.”

  
She pauses, looking uncertain. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

  
Betty can’t stand it any longer, and rushes forward to hold Veronica’s face in her hands. She rests her forehead against Veronica’s. “Of course. I’ve been gone on you from day one.”

  
She doesn’t feel particularly attractive right now, with her red eyes and running nose, but the way Veronica smiles at her feels like it almost emits heat it’s so full of warmth. Veronica moves in to kiss her and she pulls away. Veronica looks stricken.

  
She shakes her head, smiling, as she grabs a tissue from the tissue box near the door. “Sorry, sorry, I can’t allow you to kiss me like this. I’m too gross.”

  
Veronica looks incredibly relieved, and laughs. “I’m an actress, believe me, I’ve had to kiss worse. And besides I would kiss you even if you had a cold. Your gross is my gross now. I’ve got years to make up for.”

  
Betty chuckles weakly. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  
And she does.

  
***

  
“It’s raining again. I can hear it.” Betty says quietly, smiling.

  
Veronica looks at her across the pillow, amused. “Yes it is.”

  
She traces a pattern on Betty’s hand. “It’s cosy.”

  
Betty beams at her, leaning across for a long, lazy kiss.

  
They lie for a while, not talking, just looking at each other, hands loosely entwined.

  
“So, reunion tomorrow night – Will you be my date?” Veronica asks, with a light laugh.

  
Betty cringes. “Oh, I totally blanked that’s on tomorrow! I did promise I’d help Cheryl with set up and name badge duties, but that’s only for the start of it?”

  
“So you’re abandoning me?” Veronica says dramatically, making Betty grin. “What do we even need name badges for? We know who everyone is.” She pouts.

  
Betty laughs. “You mean, everyone knows who you are. The badges are for those of us who aren’t on magazines in the supermarket regularly,” she teases.

  
Veronica blushes a little. “I didn’t mean it like _that.”_

  
“I know.” Betty says, feeling full of light. “I’m just teasing. If you’re happy to hang out while I hand out name badges, I’d love to go with you.”

  
Veronica smiles at her, a private, soft smile not for public consumption. “I’ll save you a dance,” she says, and kisses her again.

  
***

  
Jughead decides to walk.

  
It’s not more than a fifteen minute walk, twenty at most. He feels like he could use the fresh air.

  
He’s about eighty percent certain that he’s going to get there and be told Archie’s already gone home. When you think about it, it makes sense.

  
And yet, he’s been stalling all day. Dreading seeing him again all day, and unable to think of anything else.

  
And then of course, halfway there the thick, dark clouds above make good on what they’ve been promising to do all day and break open, pouring down sheets of rain.

  
Of course. It was such a great idea not to drive.

  
He buttons his jacket up as much he can and hurries forward.

  
He reaches the yellow house soon afterwards, and looks up at his one-time home. He can’t help but be hit by nostalgic memories- eight, ten, fourteen, seventeen – but he blinks and they disappear.

  
He’s only struck now with the thought that one, he hadn’t even considered that Fred and Hermione would probably be there and that one of them would probably answer the door, and two, Archie would be well within his rights to completely yell at him and send him away.

  
The thought almost makes him turn around immediately, but he shivers and walks up to the front door.

  
He knocks, and waits, shivering, pushing his wet hair back out of his eyes.

  
When no one comes to the door he wonders if anyone’s even home. Fred might have offered to drive his son to the airport, to get to spend a little more time with him before he leaves. He considers leaving again. Maybe this was just a terrible mistake and he can just guilt people into never bringing it up again.

  
Why did he waste so much time at home?

  
As he’s about to turn back into the rain, which has not lessened, he hears someone on the stairs.

  
His heart misses a beat, like when you misjudge how many stairs there are going down and you skip one and feel like you’re falling for a second.

  
Archie opens the door in sweatpants and a plaid flannel, looking tired. He seems to have changed at last though, because Jughead could swear he was wearing the same shirt and jeans all three times he’s seen him since Wednesday.

  
He looks completely baffled to see him. He rubs his eyes.

  
“I didn’t hear the door, I was taking a nap...” he says slowly.

  
“You looked like you could use it.” Jughead replies awkwardly.

  
Archie doesn’t reply to this, just stands there looking tired and irritable.

  
“Did you walk here in the rain?” He asks suddenly.

  
Jughead shivers. “Yes. Well, it started after I was halfway here, but yes.”

  
Archie looks confused, like he’s not fully awake and doesn’t understand things properly yet. “Why’d you do that?”

  
Jughead looks at him, and feels unreasonably angry again. Not even at Archie, just at the whole mess of the situation.

  
“I walked here because I have something to say, and of _fucking_ course I would turn up on your door dramatically in a rainstorm because nothing is fair, and anything important I do has to become a goddamn rom-com cliché – “ he says in one breath, only stopped by Archie cutting him off.

  
“What?” Archie says, looking more confused.

  
He takes a breath, heart beating like a hammer, and a line from one of Archie’s songs off the album he’d listened to while pacing between his living room and kitchen, wondering whether to go.

_  
I know I could lie, but I’m telling the truth, wherever I go, there’s a shadow of you._

  
He looks steadily at Archie. “I’m not good at surprises. I never have been. They’ve never really brought good things for me. I wasn’t...expecting you to say that. I expected us to never see each other again, and then – “ he breaks off for a second. “- I wouldn’t have predicted you would say that to me this morning. But I’m sorry that I yelled at you this morning. It’s not like you’re responsible for everyone else’s heartbreaks. That wasn’t fair.”

  
Archie nods, half-frozen in the doorway. “So you came here to apologise for that? It’s fine. You’re forgiven.” He doesn’t say it bitterly, just like he’s tired and would like to go back to bed.

  
Jughead steels his nerve. “I’m sorry, but I’m also annoyed.”

  
Archie makes an incredulous “hah” noise, but doesn’t say anything.

  
“I’m annoyed that you got there before I did. I knew so much earlier than you.”

  
Archie opens his mouth slightly to say something, but doesn’t, keeping his eyes on Jughead.

  
Thinking about this feels like he’s channelling his younger, angstier, teenage self but maybe that’s inevitable where teenage feelings are concerned.

  
“Of course I knew before you did! It made sense to look at us, when you were always the normal, healthy-looking one, and I was your weird, skinny friend, of course I did! I knew it so well it became normal, a thought in the back of my mind, a background process I didn’t even consciously think about, like – breathing,” he says rapidly. It’s like something’s cracked open inside him, after years, Pandora’s Box but instead of letting evil out it’s truth – and it’s actually making him feel better.

  
“I watched you go from girl to girl, and I thought _that’s just him._   It’s not even like I was jealous. I accepted that you would never know, and I was never going to tell you. But I needed to figure my shit out, I had to do that without you. That’s why – I _couldn’t_ tell you about Reggie. It was a weird thing that I didn’t totally get myself, but it was comforting in a way that I didn’t want you to know. I couldn’t talk to you about that. What if you figured it out? And then...the road trip. I told you, I’m _not good_ with surprises. I knew first for so long I never imagined I was first. I just thought I was only...the only one who knew how I felt.”

  
“How did you feel?” Archie asks, but he doesn’t sound like he’s confused. He sounds tired, and hurt.

  
“God, you’re gonna make me say it,” Archie raises an eyebrow, and he has to admit that’s fair. “I – I loved you. I still do. I still love you.”

  
Archie laughs – a strange kind of exasperated, exhausted sound. “I’m sorry, I just don’t get it, Jug – I told you this morning that I returned the feelings you’ve apparently had for over a decade, and you told me it was “peak me”. On that road trip, you made me feel like you were horrified with me, and then you suggested we forget about it. All fucking day I’ve been convinced I built up anything I thought you felt for me more than friendship. What should I think?”

  
Jughead sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his damp hair.

  
“You kissed me once, while high. It wasn’t exactly an admission of love! I don’t really know what like you’re like now, but then – you had this habit of being obsessed with a girl for like a week or a month and you’d be certain that they were _the one._ You _really liked them._ I get it, I’m not trying to judge you but just – I was so afraid that’s what that was. You’d run out of _girls_ to chase. It had to happen at some point with you. I was just something that hadn’t occurred to you until that very moment, and you wouldn’t mean to hurt me, but you’d get bored, you’d get distracted by something else, and I couldn’t – I couldn’t lose our friendship over something dumb you did while high.” He shivers again.  
  
  
“Not that it mattered, in the end. The kiss changed everything just by happening.”

  
He almost expects Archie to be defensive over this, but he just looks sad, and nods slowly. “I understand. I want to say I wouldn’t have but who knows – I can’t definitely say that wouldn’t have happened. God, I wish you’d just _told me_ though.” He looks at Jughead. “I thought I was being the weird one.”

  
Jughead half-smiles, small and rueful, but there. “It would have meant admitting a lot I was too scared to tell you. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that.”

  
Archie sighs. “We were young. You forgave me for hurting you worse. Don’t worry about it.”

  
“Thanks,” he says awkwardly.

  
They stand quietly, still looking at each other.

  
“So, you look pretty cold. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in, but I just woke up and this conversation was kind of a big distraction. Do you want to come in?” Archie says.

  
Jughead’s heart hammers. “I kind of have to know before I do – I know I yelled at you, but do you...do you still feel the same way you did nine hours ago?”

  
Archie looks at him incredulously, and half-laughs. “Of course I do. What kind of – Just come in already, won’t you? You’re shivering.”

  
Jughead’s surprised he can move his legs. He hadn’t quite expected this, somehow. It had seemed like a possibility, but not a probability.

  
He follows Archie into the hallway.

  
A thought occurs to him again. “Where’s your Dad? He didn’t hear all of that, did he?”

  
Archie smiles. “No, he took Hermione out for a date in the city. They’re not supposed to be back till tomorrow.”

  
He nods.

  
They stand close together, not speaking.

  
“So, just checking,” says Archie after a moment. “You love me?”

  
Jughead chuckles, feeling like he’s being teased. “Yes. I do.”

  
Archie looks into his eyes intensely, and for a moment he sees him again like a stranger – like the adult he’s grown into instead of the boy he knew, who never once looked at him like that – and then he recognises the warmth in his eyes and remembers this is someone he knows, well.

  
“I thought I should probably ask this time, so I don’t spring any surprises on you, but...can I kiss you, now?” He asks, so quietly, so gently it almost breaks Jughead’s heart.

  
Jughead shivers. “Ok.”

  
It’s strange to be kissing this person that he knows so well, and also feels like he doesn’t know at all. Even stranger to be kissing in this familiar old hallway, which used to be all memories of visiting after school, and later coming home after school, but will now always be the place where they kissed for the first time (unaltered by drugs or alchohol). Archie’s hands are warm.

  
Strange, but not a bad strange.

  
He pulls away for a second, a whole other panic occurring to him, which had never popped up because he would never in a million years thought this likely. “I just want to say, I know you’ve probably had a lot of...” he fumbles for the right word.”...experience? And I’ve – I haven’t had a lot of relationships in the last few years, which I guess is weird – “

  
Archie’s hands have settled around his waist, comfortably. He looks at Jughead very gently again, and says, “It's not - I don’t expect anything from you. We don’t have to do anything. I’m happy with – even just this.”

  
Jughead worries it will probably ruin the mood if he starts crying, but it’s surreal. It’s not even like a dream because he couldn’t have imagined this scenario in order to dream about it. It’s been a really long time since someone looked at him like this. Too long.

  
He looks at him, cautiously resting a hand on Archie’s plaid-clad arm.

  
“No – I want...that. I just – you might have to take it slowly with me,” he says, quite proud of the way his voice doesn’t crack or come out too thinly. His heart’s racing, but for the first time out of nervousness, not out of full blown anxiety.

  
Archie smiles, warm and without mocking, and kisses him lightly. Resting his head against Jughead’s, he says quietly, “I think I can manage that.”

  
Jughead sneezes.

  
“After you have a hot shower, because your skin is like ice.” Archie chuckles. “C’mon, I’ll lend you something of mine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bear with me, it's wrapping up in the next chapter or so :D 
> 
> songs used, if you're keen:  
> Feist - 1234 (I was reminded it existed last week, major late primary school flashbacks)  
> I stole another OneRepublic song from the same album for Archie and Josie's band, I couldn't help it it worked too well - it was called "Wherever I Go"
> 
> thanks to all you lovely people who leave kudos or comments, you really make my day :D


	12. I Wanna Get Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> settle in with a drink now, because this is officially the longest chapter. here we goooo....

_I didn’t know I was lonely till I saw your face, I wanna get better, better, better, better  
I didn’t know I was broken till I wanted to change, I wanna get better, better, better, better  
_ **– “I Wanna Get Better”, Bleachers  
  
**

_It’s been a long time since I came around, been a long time but I’m back in town, and this time I’m not leaving without you  
 – _ **“You And I”, Lady Gaga**

It’s still raining outside.  


Archie likes that, it makes him feel even more wrapped up, sheltered.

  
He hasn’t felt this warm, this safe, this far away from the world in years. Maybe the last time was before things got bad with Vashti – but it’s never a good idea to attempt to replace a best friend with a new relationship.  


He feels warm throughout his entire body. They’re so close now, legs entwined loosely, and he thought it might feel weird after all this time, but the stranger thing is that it doesn’t. In this moment, he can’t remember anything but being here and now, the most comfortable he’s ever been.

  
He looks at Jughead, not speaking. He doesn’t need to. He does want to write like seventy new songs about how long his eyelashes are, about the delicate curve of his cheekbones against his thin face, about how he hasn’t seen this lazy, happy smile since they were both young children.

  
“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly, with a smile. The sound doesn’t have to travel far.

  
Jughead smiles and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s dumb.”

  
“What is it?” he prods, lightly, a laugh in his voice.

  
Jughead looks back at him. “I just can’t believe after all this time, we’re back here. In this room. Fred hasn’t even taken down your old comic posters.”

  
Archie laughs an agreement, having not even considered it. “Yeah. But you’re not on a blow-up mattress now. Which is good.”

  
Jughead nods, grinning. “We really should have figured it out much earlier. I slept on that mattress for months until I moved into the guest room.”

  
Archie grins. “I had been separated from you a lot before that! I just wanted to make sure you knew I… wanted you there.”

  
Jughead sighs. “You are unbearably cheesy.”

  
Archie takes mock-offence. “You love it!”

  
Jughead smiles, softly. “I do.”

  
Archie has to kiss him, then. 

  
It’s still a novelty, having that freedom. Of course, he would willingly stop the second he was asked to, but he almost can’t believe he’s allowed to at all.

  
He pulls back but leaves his hand there loosely, stroking Jughead’s cheekbone. Jughead leans into the touch, closing his eyes, until Archie finally lets his hand drop.

  
Jughead gets a look like he’s just thought of something.

  
“What is it?” Archie asks, noticing.

  
Jughead shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  
Archie looks at him, seriously, caringly. “Are you sure?”

  
Jughead looks like he’s considering it.

  
“Do you…” he starts, so quietly that Archie almost misses it, and he’s already pretty close.

  
Jughead looks up at the ceiling, uneasily. “I get very nervous when things go too well for me. Bad things had a habit of sneaking up behind them and hitting me right when I let my guard down…”

  
Archie’s heart breaks for him, again, and he finds Jughead’s hand and holds it. “Hey, hey, look at me, Jug,” he says softly. “Look at me.”

  
Jughead turns to look at him, looking worried.

  
“I can’t change those things. I can’t promise anything for certain in the future. But I won’t lie to you. In fact, from now on – why don’t we make sure we don’t lie, and we don’t keep secrets from each other. That way, you’ll be able to at least deal with things head on.” Archie says, making sure to keep his gaze.

  
Jughead’s eyes look watery, and he looks away for a second, blinking.

  
“When did you get so wise?” Jughead asks, looking back suspiciously.

  
“I had a friend who would call me out if I said stupid things to her. Which was a lot of the time. Tough love works.” Archie says, with a grin.

  
Jughead laughs, then goes pensive.

  
After a few seconds, he says slowly. “I like the honesty thing. Not like, obliged to tell each other every single thought we ever have, but I like the not keeping things from each other part. Can I ask you something?”

  
Archie nods. “Ask away.”

  
Jughead looks at him pensively. “I’m not going to freak out or anything, but – why did Reggie tell you about senior year? I know that we’re not like ‘best buds’ or whatever, but we’re friendly and I just thought he wouldn’t have…just told anyone about it.”

  
Archie sighs. “Don’t be mad at him, I kinda – made him tell me. I wanted to know if there was anything else about that year that could help me understand why we had such a bad fight.”

  
Jughead raises an eyebrow.

  
Archie blushes, a little. “I’m aware now obviously that it’s because I didn’t want to deal with what happened before the fight, but that would have meant admitting things to myself I _was not_ ready to.”

  
Jughead smiles. After a moment he says, “So, it just – came out while you were hanging out?”

  
Archie sighs. “In our new spirit of honesty, even though I don’t feel guilty about it, and I _really_ hope I’m not about to upset you…That first fight kind of wrecked me, and I needed some kind of comfort, and I ended up running into him. We caught up, there was a lot of drinking…he was there. But I swear – it wasn’t more than a one-shot deal for either of us. He asked me why I’d needed a drink, we ended up talking about it, and I made him tell me what he knew…”

  
His heart thumps, and he hopes he hasn’t made a terrible mistake. But the goal was honesty; he’d had plenty of relationships with dishonesty, lies, and secrets. He keeps looking at Jughead, waiting for his reaction.

  
He looks a little surprised.

  
“Ok, so I kiiiiind of thought that might be the case when I asked you about him just before, but I really appreciate you telling me. I guess this honesty thing is working so far,” Jughead muses. “And it might have surprised me for a few seconds, but I’m not – mad. You’re a grown man. Neither of us had said anything to each other about how we felt. I get it.” A small, slow smile breaks across his face.

  
Relief floods Archie’s mind like a potent drug. “Oh thank God. I like this honesty thing so far,” he says, and Jughead chuckles softly and a lock of dark hair falls forward onto his forehead, and Archie has to kiss him again.

  
“So three out of the four of us, huh? Maybe that was his plan all along, and he couldn’t get to Veronica before Betty did.” Jughead jokes, resting his head on Archie’s shoulder. Archie has wrapped an arm around Jughead’s shoulder, and feels like he wouldn’t care if his arm went numb because he never wants to move again.

  
He laughs, remembering something. “He said he didn’t go after her because of the ‘bro code’, actually,”

  
Jughead snickers. “Sounds like him.”

  
*

  
Archie falls into an easy, warm sleep for an hour or so and wakes up feeling like he’s slept for a year. It’s the most refreshed he’s felt in ages. A momentary panic is calmed by looking over to see Jughead still there, his head resting on the pillow beside him.

  
It’s not raining anymore, but he can still hear the dripping of water from lamp-posts and trees and out of rain gutters.

  
He can’t help but stare across the pillow at him, not moving, just looking.

  
“You’re staring.” Jughead mumbles sleepily, eyes still closed.

  
He chuckles softly, caught out. “I can’t help it. I’m not trying to _You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful_ you, but like, damn…”

  
Jughead chuckles, eyes fluttering open. “I would think that’s exactly what you do. Maybe the label should have called you Two Directions back in the day and marketed you as their successors.” he teases.

  
Archie gasps. “How dare you,” he says, as if he’s been mortally wounded.

  
Jughead laughs, getting that kind of goofy, open grin on his face that only came out in his most unguarded moments.

  
“No, I tease, I’m just making fun of you,” Jughead relents. “I did actually listen to your last album all the way through before I came here.”

  
Archie is surprised, somehow. “What – what did you think?”

  
Jughead looks at him, a little more seriously. “It – I really liked it. I think – I think it’s what convinced me I had to come over. I mean, I’m assuming that some things were kind of about me, and now I think about it, that’s kind of self-centered –“

  
Archie cuts him off, grinning. “Nope, you were right. I’ve been trying to write more about the real things, in my life, my memories and that made me think of you, and you ended up being the person I – along with Josie, of course – wrote at least two songs on the album directly about. Definitely _Kids._ And _Wherever I Go._ ”

  
Jughead grimaces. “In the spirit of honesty, I totally lied about thinking _Kids_ was about all of us. But then you said it was, and I felt stupid for thinking it was about only us.”

  
Archie laughs. “I fucking _knew it!_ I only said that because I felt like it was a bit pathetic admitting it if you couldn’t already tell. Fuck, we go around in circles so much.”

  
Jughead cringes. “God, I know. We got there in the end, though.” He says, with a small smile, and leans over for another kiss.

  
Time feels elastic and unimportant. Archie can tell it’s dark outside, but other than that he doesn’t care.

  
“Archie, can I ask you something totally cliché?” Jughead asks after a while, staring at the ceiling.

  
Archie grins. “Of course.”

  
“I don’t know what your world is like – but I can’t imagine the industry is too queer friendly…” he pauses, searchingly.

  
Archie makes a small “hah” sound of disgruntled assent. “Not publicly, no.”

  
“I guess I’m just wondering, not that you have to tell me…but I was wondering, if you didn’t know when you left – when did you figure it out?” he says, looking at Archie curiously.

  
Archie shakes his head. “Oh God, that’s a question. But in the spirit, so on…” he smiles ruefully.

  
He thinks about it for a moment, propping his chin up on his crossed arms.

  
“For about a year, I was just caught up with all the meetings and recording and everything, and I didn’t want to even think about what had happened, and definitely not _why_ …” he trails off. It’s always weird remembering that time – it was both one of the most exciting and new and thrilling times of his life, and for a short time, the least complicated, but also an undercurrent of various painful and scary emotions are threaded through the memories – the loneliness of being in a totally different setting without real friends, the pain of having left them behind, missing them, regret.

  
“I had never lived in the city, like I knew that the populations were way bigger, but I didn’t get it till I lived there – it was so much easier to meet new people all the time. In that first year I think I subconsciously decided I could be whatever I wanted to, the easiest version of me – and it’s like it worked for a while? I thought I could be this totally ‘normal’ guy, and like, I’d be able to meet a girl there and have a normal relationship and just never deal with any issues, just as soon as I stopped being so busy with making our first album,” he laughs, somewhat ironically.

  
Jughead rolls on to his side, listening intently.

  
“I’ll spare you the boring detail, but I dated a few girls in that year, for short periods. I was too busy to actually be there for a relationship, and they were often like, jealous of Josie. I had to put her first, and I don’t regret that – the music thing was what we gave up everything here for, it had to come first.” He sighs, and looks at Jughead. “Of course, just when you think you know what you’re doing, reality fucking comes and punches you in the stomach. Like, oh did you forget? It’s time to deal with that thing you put off dealing with. Have a good year!”

  
Jughead laughs wearily. “Yep, been there.”

  
Archie smiles at him, feeling a little pinprick of hurt at the memory he’s about to tell. It was almost ten years ago, and it was small enough that it’s just like scar tissue – not a gaping wound, but never completely healed over. It’s an important scar to remember.

  
“So, we were touring. Our first tour, actually, and there was this guy, Diego, from this band that we made friends with. They were going to the same places as us a lot, playing the same festivals, and we just – clicked. It was like, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and I didn’t tell Josie about this – in hindsight, because I totally knew what she would say, and she’d have been right – and then we were at some festival act party, and he pulled me away and kissed me. That’s when I kinda knew…or realised it wasn’t going away.”

  
That experience was another thing that was weird to think about, and he hadn’t thought about it so deeply in years.

  
Jughead reaches an arm out to stroke Archie’s colourfully-inked arm. “Don’t feel like you have to answer me, ok, but… I’m curious, did you see him again? Did anyone else know?”

  
Archie nods. “It’s ok, feels kinda – good to talk. After that…we had this brief, intense, on and off secret relationship, I guess, although it was a mess and neither of us wanted anyone to know, although he was less worried about it. And no one knew, or at least I don’t think so – I told Josie after it ended, because I was tired of lying, and I needed to talk to someone about it, and she got it. In a weird way, it kind of brought us closer, having more in common than we thought.”

  
He shakes his head and grimaces, shaking off the vulnerable nineteen-year-old’s memories.

  
“Sorry that was so long-winded, it was kind of series of things leading up to it,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

  
Jughead grins, slow and lazy. “I like hearing about your life. For the last decade, I’ve only known what other people tell me about it. And it’s interesting to know about the relationships you weren’t having in the public eye.”

  
“Yeah, there’s been a few. And even less that I really thought might work.”

  
Archie turns on his side, and looks at Jughead, frowning at a sudden thought he’s had. “Jug, I have to tell you –” he sees Jughead tense, almost like a twitch, ready to hear. “ – I’m not _good_ at relationships. My longest one was just under a year, and I haven’t been in a real one for a few years, and I know I’m selfish for not telling you this before I told you how I felt, but I’m trying to tell you now because, _honesty –“_

  
He stops at the slow, relieved smile breaking out across Jughead’s face. “What are you smiling at?”

  
Jughead shakes his head, smiling. “You total – jerk, I thought you were about to say something really bad,” Archie is taken aback. “I know you. I know you’re bad at this. You’ve been bad at this since I knew you.”

  
Archie lies back, feeling himself blush.

  
“You think you’re not great at relationships? My last one was three years ago, and it was the only relationship I attempted since college,” Jughead continues, matter-of-factly.  Archie looks at him. “But we’re going to make it work. Or at least we’re gonna try our fucking hardest.”

  
Archie continues to look at him, almost unable to speak.

  
For the first time since he kissed Jughead in the hallway and felt lighter than air - a deeply buried fear rises to his mind spreading a horrible cold through him like ice water in his veins. This morning he couldn’t have even predicted for certain that his feelings would be returned. But now the thought is unbearable – that they’d actually finally make it, and he was going to ruin it.

  
He can’t look at him any longer, and lies back. He had been selfish, not remembering this truth, just wanting to feel good. Now, whatever he does, he is going end up hurting the one person he had just promised not to, and how could he call it unintentional? It was callous at the very least.

  
“Archie – Arch, what…what did I say? I didn’t mean we’re gonna just _try,_ I am determined to make this work, I’m not –” Jughead cuts through his anxious train of thought, sounding worried.

  
He closes his eyes. This might well be the worst thing he’s ever done, and that’s not a short list. He keeps his eyes closed, if he doesn’t open them he won’t cry. The sharp nails of his fingers dig into the broken skin around his thumbnails. He can hear him, but it’s like he’s paralysed by guilt and mourning what never even got started.

  
“Archie, _fuck,_ look at me! Talk to me!” Jughead says, and he sounds so freaked out and hurt that it wakes him up.

  
Looking at him, the hurt already in his face makes him feel like he’s been stabbed but he forces the words out. He can’t afford to lie here paralysed and not explain, and he already feels ashamed for shutting down and freaking out without any explanations.

  
“I _don’t_ just mean I’m bad at them…I can’t _do them right_ , I’ve not once had – a fucking single successful relationship, Jug, I _hurt people_. Something always happens, I can’t – “ he breaks off, starting to cry, feeling the panic rising.

  
Jughead looks at him, terrified, and encloses a hand over his. This has the effect of at least stopping his anxious fidgeting, although there will still be deep welts around his nail beds.

  
“Bullshit.” He says quietly, angrily. “Just because they haven’t worked in the past, doesn’t mean this can’t work.”

  
He looks at Jughead, pained, wishing selfishly that he could’ve forgotten this for longer. “No, it’s me. There’s something rotten inside me, and if I hurt you because of it, I couldn’t – _fuck_ ,” his vision blurs with tears and he struggles for breath. It feels like he’s dying, this feels worse than any one before this.

  
Then he distantly feels a comforting hand lightly resting on his chest. It’s warm. He hears Jughead say, steadily, “Breathe with me. In… Out… In… Out.”

  
He listens and gets his breathing under control. After he can think relatively clearly again, even though he still feels anxious and afraid, he asks Jughead, “How did you know how to deal with that?”

  
Jughead looks tired, and sad, and looks back at him. “My mom, used to get them. I learnt how to deal with them.”

  
He nods, very slightly. “I liked your mom.”

  
Jughead nods, almost mimicking the action unwittingly. He lets Archie’s hand drop out of his. He’s sitting up.

  
“You’re not off the hook – you’re hurting me more, _now_ , not telling me why you think there’s something _rotten_ in you…” Jughead says, voice full of hurt.

  
Archie looks at him, surprised that he can’t see it yet. “You know the boy that Mary Kay Letourneau had sex with, he married her? He said he couldn’t form relationships with women around his own age, like she was in his head from so young that she ruined any chance of normal relationships with anyone else, the only choice he had was to go back to her. They had two children! How _fucked is that,”_ he says angrily, and his voice shakes. “I – _hate her,_ so _fucking much_ – because she didn’t just screw me up then, she did something to me and I don’t think I’ll ever be ok again…but what if – what if she made herself the only person -” he can’t finish the sentence, it hurts too much, he’s crying again into the pillow because he can’t look at Jughead.

  
Jughead surprises him by lying down next to him, very gently, looking at him with fire in his eyes but unmistakable love as well. Without speaking, he raises a hand to Archie’s face and wipes some of his tears away with his thumb, and waits for them to taper off.

  
He speaks very quietly, but his voice shakes with some suppressed anger. “Believe me, Arch, if I could make her pay for it, I would. I can’t. But you don’t need to think this – if you had looked into it more, you would have seen that Vili Fuaalau filed for divorce from that woman over ten years ago. She _doesn’t –_ “ he breaks off, trembling, “ – she doesn’t get to win. She doesn’t get to ruin your life, unless you let her. And you’re _so much stronger than that._ I know it.”

  
Again, he feels like he doesn’t deserve this. This person is too good, too caring for him. But then he thinks for the first time, maybe that’s the fear talking. Maybe all that’s required is for him to be brave, and to want to try. And he wants to try, more than anything.

  
“So what should I do?” he asks, and his throat feels sore.

  
“Have you ever tried talking to anyone about it, like professionally?” Jughead asks softly, not removing his hand. Archie is grateful for this; it makes him feel grounded here in this moment.

  
“Josie’s brought it up, once or twice. I was…afraid. Too afraid to talk about it, at least with anyone else.” He almost whispers.

  
Jughead takes this in seriously. “I think you should. I mean, I’ve been going to a therapist for a few years, and that’s only cause Betty convinced me to go to one session with hers. Surprisingly, I’m sure, but there was stuff I didn’t even realise I was carrying around with me…and with what you’ve got, I think it would be good for you. Think about it – not for me, but for your own sake?”

  
He realises the thought doesn’t terrify him the way it used to. He actually feels – hopeful. It might not ever fix some of his scars, but maybe it can help.

  
He nods slowly. “God, I love you,” he says quietly, leaning his head forward against Jughead’s.

  
“You’re lucky I love you so much, you fucking scared me that bad.” Jughead replies, with a familiar ironic humour in his voice.

  
He feels awful about it, but the only way he’ll fix it, is trying to be better in the future. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you _, I’m really, really,_ _fucking sorry_ ,” he says, feeling remorseful in every atom of his being. “The thought of her finding a way, after nearly, what thirteen years, to destroy _this_ – it freaked me out. I’m gonna get better at telling you when I’m freaking out.”

  
“Just talk to me. I’ll try and remember to when I get in a mood.” Jughead asks, with a weak chuckle that barely makes a sound. “That’s the only way this will work.”

  
“This will work. You’re stuck with me now,” he tries to joke, but Jughead kisses him instead.

  
“I’m glad you’re a mess. We match,” he says, with an affectionate smirk.

  
Archie chuckles.

  
“Do you feel like takeout? I’m fucking _starving,_ I haven’t eaten since I got home from going to your apartment this morning.”

  
Jughead laughs. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I could eat an entire pizza by myself right now.”

  
*

  
They eat the delivered pizzas in bed, side by side.

  
They discuss relationships, without getting too much into the emotions. He feels tapped out from crying anyway. Jughead tells him about college, an R.A named Desi; and then a co-worker, Kit, who’d moved to a bigger newspaper in a different city.

  
He explains how much his long relationship with Adam felt like freedom, but wasn’t, and how he felt safe with Vashti but ruined it by not letting her in, not telling her what was underneath it all.

  
“Basically, never a good idea to try and replace a lost best friend by directing all your need into a relationship.” He says wryly.

  
“So wait, this was after the band broke up? But you weren’t fighting with Josie that whole time right?” Jughead asks, looking curious.

  
Archie shakes his head. “Kind of a long story.”

  
“I’m not going anywhere.”

  
Archie smiles, somewhat wistful.

  
“I had started seeing Vashti when I was about 23, around the end of the year, and then Josie and I had finished an album and we were getting pulled in different directions… I felt like she was the star, and I guess she worried people thought I was. We had this horrible fight, and I told her she could finally go solo and cut me loose like she always wanted. She called my bluff, and then…I was in a bad place. Vashti couldn’t put up with my shit much longer, dumped me a couple of months after Josie left. And I didn’t see Josie for six months, which felt like forever – I just holed up writing sad songs and working on an album.” He pauses, thinking.

  
“Then, I’m supposed to go to some awards show, and I get all ready, and then I just – don’t. I know Josie will be performing, and I can’t. Then, I get a call from her later, asking me why she didn’t see me there. I say I’m at home, and she says she’s -” he smiles just thinking about it.

  
“- She’s already at my door. We spent the rest of the night talking, making up, and about a year and a half later we officially decided it was more fun making music together, and we got our act together to move overseas for a year to write that last album. Since that night, and before this week, I don’t think we’ve spent more than twenty-four hours apart. Which I guess, sounds totally weird and co-dependent, right?”

  
Jughead grins. “Sure, but it would be a _little_ hypocritical for me to judge people for that.”

  
They eat in comfortable silence. “So where did you move to then? Come on, make me hate you.” Jughead jokes.

  
Archie laughs. “We spent some months in Paris, writing, and then some months in London, recording at Abbey Road. Which you would actually die over, it kind of hurt at the time that I couldn’t tell you how cool it was to be there…”

  
Jughead shakes his head, overplaying outrage. “I think I’m expecting it, but then you go and tell me that. I do, I totally hate you,” he says, in such a way it can’t be mistaken for anything but a joke. “And Paris, _fuck._ That was obviously first on my list of pretentious writer places to go after college.”

  
Archie looks at him mildly. “Well, it’s not gone anywhere yet. Maybe we could go there sometime.”

  
Jughead looks at him, but with less scepticism than when he’d suggested travel that first time. “Maybe.” He smiles.

  
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then. “If you _had_ to replace me as your best friend,” he says, smiling, lightly teasing. “I’m glad it ended up being Josie. She’s good for you. And she’s good at giving advice.”

  
Archie is pleasantly surprised by this unexpected comment. “I don’t know how I would have survived the last decade without her. She…knew I kind of had to get out of Los Angeles, and she was the one who organised for us to move overseas. She’s the best kind of person.”

  
Jughead nods quietly, finishing his last slice of pizza.

  
“We really should have brought the paper towels up, my hands are greasy as hell now…” he says almost absent-mindedly.

  
Archie gestures to the borrowed sweatpants he’s wearing. “Those are old anyway.”

  
Jughead shakes his head, smirking. “You say that, but I’m probably going to find out they’re designer or something…” he says, wiping his hands on them anyway.

  
He looks like he’s musing on something.

  
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, wiping his fingers on his own pants and slipping his hand over Jughead’s.

  
Jughead smiles, a little wistfully. “I think Betty’s going to move to New York. Which is good. I mean, I think she should move on, but it’s just…last week I didn’t know any of this, and suddenly everything’s changing…”

  
Archie looks at him. “Good changes, though?”

  
Jughead looks sheepish, almost guilty, and squeezes his hand. “Of course.”

  
Archie has a thought then which fills with him with warmth, but he keeps a lid on it, and says casually. “Well maybe…sometime soon you might think about leaving here. Because I don’t want to be without you, and I guess I could come back here for a while…but I think you want to leave, right?”

  
Jughead rests his head on Archie’s shoulder, and doesn’t say anything. He can almost feel him thinking. "Jesus fucking _Christ_ I do...not sure I can deal with L.A, though. Is that a dealbreaker?”

  
Archie chuckles. “Yes. I intend to stay there forever,” he jokes. “No, I’ve been thinking of moving for a while anyway…”

  
***

  
It’s early in the morning sometime, and the rain is back.

  
Jughead doesn’t know exactly what time it is, but judging by the grey light coming in from the window, it’s probably somewhere just after dawn. He grabs his phone off the bedside table, being as careful as he can to not wake Archie, whose arm is still slung loosely around his stomach.

_  
5:07 am._

  
They’d had such an irregular sleeping pattern yesterday with the afternoon nap and then staying up till a few hours ago, that he felt Archie could use the rest. It was amazing how content and refreshed he’d looked after that nap, though. Jughead got the sense he didn’t get a lot of sleep generally.

  
Not that he slept that much more. He was only awake now because he usually woke up around this time anyway, and apparently this morning was no exception.

  
He felt Archie shiver and mumble something, sounding distressed, and turned round to see his eyes flick open, looking afraid and disoriented for a moment.

  
Jughead automatically puts his hand on Archie’s chest, feeling his heart beating a mile a minute. “You alright?”

  
Archie visibly relaxes to see him. “Yeah just – just bad dreams. I think it’s being here…I’m ok,” he says quietly, and then frowns a little. “Did I wake you?”

  
He shakes his head. “I was already awake,” he says, lying back down on Archie’s pillow. Archie wraps a warm arm around him, maybe even more to comfort himself than Jughead, but he doesn’t mind.

  
They lie in comfortable silence for a moment.

  
A thought that Jughead had been thinking a lot about yesterday comes to mind again. He hadn’t known when to bring it up, so he hadn’t. It nagged at him though.

  
“Can I ask you something,” he starts, tentatively, “and if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll drop it immediately?”

  
“Ok,” Archie says sleepily.

  
“I was just thinking – you said a few days ago you don’t talk to your mom much anymore…why?” he asks quietly.

  
Archie is quiet. “It is _too early_ for this, Jug…”

  
“Sorry, don’t worry –“ Jughead starts, but Archie cuts him off.

  
“No, it’s…I don’t know…” He pauses. “Do you remember, before I left I’d been talking to her less and less? It just sort – went, from there. She wasn’t happy about L.A, and it was like _oh great, way to actually want to be –_ ” He breaks off, sounding frustrated and deeply tired. “And then, I was so busy, and every time I actually did get to see her, it felt – disjointed and weird. And she just has this husband and this whole life that I didn’t fit into…but like, she’s not inviting me over for Christmas or anything, either. She’s happy with her new life. I don’t know why she even keeps calling me on my birthday…”

  
Archie looks pained. Jughead considers his words carefully. “You know I get that. Whether my mom had reasons for leaving or not, it still hurt. And I didn’t fit her new life…I guess, what I’m saying is that,”

  
Archie looks at him curiously.

  
He thinks about it. “You know I love you… but I know that you had a tendency to let things go, like relationships with people, when it got too hard – not trying to scold you, but like…if neither of us had tried _so hard_ to retrieve this, we wouldn’t be here right now, does that make sense?”

  
Archie frowns, which then makes way for an expression of begrudging admittance. “Ok, ok,” he says slowly. “So you’re saying my mom’s like me like that, and I should – try and talk to her.”

  
“I’m not saying you have to, but maybe – I regret that I didn’t try to fix my relationship with mine sooner, but we get along pretty well now.”

  
He pauses. “Did you ever tell her what happened?”

  
Archie shakes his head. “I didn’t want to burden her. And Dad never told her, I guess.”

  
“Maybe…if she knew more about you, about what happened after she moved, you could start to rebuild yours? I know she loves you, whatever else happened.” Jughead says carefully, and hopes he hasn’t gone too far.

  
Archie sucks in an anxious-sounding breath, but Jughead can feel his pulse, faintly, and it’s not spiking.

  
“What if –“ he starts, very quietly, “ – what if I tell her about it, about everything, and she just…wishes I hadn’t told her? What if she doesn’t want to know?”

  
Jughead can tell this is a deeply secret thought, only brought out by the safety of the room, the earliness of the hour, the closeness of their bodies. 

  
He instinctively turns to press a light kiss to Archie’s clavicle, and then looks up at him. “Then she’s an asshole. And Mary’s a lot of things, but I don’t remember her being an asshole.”

  
Archie looks at him with some kind of wonder, and lightly puts his chin up to kiss him. “Thank you. Thank you for… thank you for never giving up, when it was hard.” He says, forehead resting against Jughead’s.

  
He could almost laugh, but he doesn’t want to accidentally offend Archie. It wasn’t purely out of selflessness – more a dogged need to not lose another person he loved, until he was exhausted.

  
“Yeah, well I’m sorry it took me so long this time,” he tries to joke.

  
Archie smiles. “Well, it was kind of my turn anyway.”

  
Jughead’s stomach lurches again, a learned reaction to anything good that he’s had since childhood, and then decides that just for now, he’s going to stop overthinking it, and just be here. In this room, with someone he loves, listening to the early-morning rain.

  
***

  
Josie smiles as she packs clothes into her suitcase, thinking about yesterday. It had been so good to be able to talk to Val again, like all that time they weren’t friends didn’t matter anymore. It was odd how it both felt like they were teenagers again and no time had passed, and also like so much had happened, and they were unmistakably adults now. But it was exciting, to be learning about each other’s lives again. She’d ended up spending the whole day with Val, and then Mel had come back around and they’d all stayed for dinner. Val’s semi-mysterious husband was as nice as she remembered, funnier than she did – and clearly madly in love with Val, who he looked at like some kind of miracle.

  
Her phone buzzes, and she looks at it to see a text from Val.

_  
Hey josie – mel’s just said she’s been messing around on her old drumkit in her parents garage if we wanted to have a jam, you in? say about eleven? dan’s looking after jimi :)_

  
She beams at her phone, feeling nostalgic excitement at the thought.

 _  
i’m so there, can’t wait!! :),_ she texts back.

  
She hears a knock on the door, and goes to answer it, still beaming. It might be Veronica or Archie; but Veronica responded to her enquiring text that things had gone very well, and she might not be back before Saturday afternoon, and Archie hadn’t replied at all – which she hoped meant good things as well, and not that he was curled up in a depressive ball in his old room. She resolves to give him another call, just in case.

  
Smiling as she opens the door, her face falls.

  
“God, you are… _honestly_ the last person I expected to see. What do you want?” she says, frostily.

  
Cheryl looks professionally put together, but her ever-present red lipstick is nowhere to be seen. It makes her look young and strangely vulnerable, although her expression is determined.

  
She takes a breath. “I wasn’t going to come. I understand why you don’t want to see me.”

  
Josie sets her lips in a thin line. “So?”

  
Cheryl frowns, very slightly. “So, someone reminded me that I’m not the kind of person who gives up. And so I’m here, to apologise, and to try to explain.”

  
A painful tug-of-war has started for Josie, mentally. She wants to do the smart thing and decide to stop this particular conversation before it starts. Before it has a chance to hurt more, and she was feeling so good this morning, she can’t face the thought of spending the rest of the day emotionally wiped out again.

  
But then again – she does know Cheryl. And that admitting fault and trying to apologise, at least first, is something she’s not always been good at. And she is morbidly curious to hear what she has to say.

  
She looks away, and then back. “What if I don’t want to hear it?”

  
“You can tell me to go, and I will,” Cheryl says, seriously. “But don’t you at least want to hear me out? Even just so you can close the book on me?”

  
Josie looks away again and looks back, and then sighs. “Fine, come in.”

  
Cheryl’s eyes widen slightly, but she keeps her face contrite.

  
Josie is annoyed that she’s already giving ground, and makes sure doesn’t move more than a few feet past the door before stopping and crossing her arms, ready to hear what Cheryl’s going to say.

  
Cheryl clasps her fingers together, looking anxious but still resolute.

  
“I shouldn’t have, -” she pauses and starts again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never wanted to do that, and I realise I could have avoided that hurt if I hadn’t freaked out on you. I am _really_ sorry about that, Josie.” Her voice is full of remorse, and her eyes glint.

  
Josie regards her warily, narrowing her eyes. “That was pretty…awful, Cheryl. But the worst thing about it, about bringing up all of that, is that you –” she breaks off, already feeling a lump in her throat rising. “You could _see_ it was upsetting me, and you just…kept going. So like, you’re sorry – I believe you didn’t mean to hurt me. I accept your apology. But, if you were me – would you trust you again?”

  
Cheryl doesn’t say anything, looking pained.

  
Josie stares back at her, aggrieved.   

  
“I – can’t say what you _should_ do, Josie,” Cheryl breaks the silence. “All I can do is explain myself – I _know_ I shouldn’t have had to ask. I _know._ It seems such a horribly _moronic_ thing to ask, now, when I can think about it with a clear head.”

  
Josie makes an upset, incredulous noise that she doesn’t even mean to. “So, why did you have to? It seemed pretty important at the time.”

  
Cheryl looks at her, eyes full of regret. “I wish that I could go back to that moment, when it was perfect,” she pauses to take a stuttering breath, and Josie feels like she’s inhaled razorblades again.

  
It almost hurts more that even looking so miserable and regretful, Cheryl is still achingly beautiful to her – if she had been born some five hundred years ago in Europe, she might have been a painter’s muse.

 _  
You’d like to go back? So would I,_ she thinks bitterly.

  
“Josie, I just…I was lying there, thinking how happy I was, and I had this thought. Not fully, but this realisation that it wasn’t just us. You had someone that you’ve shared things with I never will, and at that moment I was terrified, so fucking – _terrified,_ ” she breaks off with a soft gasp, takes a breath and continues.

  
“Life is horrifically random, Josie. It takes and it just takes, for no reason. I shared my first breath in this world with someone, and I thought he would be there my whole life and he wasn’t. I never saw it coming, the person I loved most –” she pauses, wiping silent tears. “At that moment, I knew ten years never changed how I felt, and the most important thing was to try and find out whether someone else had any chance of snatching you – the most important person – away from me, and I assumed you not wanting to answer meant that you were – hedging your bets. I know that was completely wrong, and I regret _so much_ about it, but do you understand why?”

  
Cheryl looks at her with imploring, wet eyes and Josie badly wants to just forgive her, but it would be because she wants her not to look so sad, not to sound so small – not because she’s decided that she can trust her again. Pulling that card is unfair, because it forces her to feel sympathy.

  
She takes a shaky sigh, close to tears yet again. “Yes. I understand that was a really painful time for you, Cheryl. I’ll always be sorry for you about it. But I need you to understand – I feel like I’m _always_ giving ground here, and it _always_ leads to me getting hurt.”

  
“It’s not just you; you don’t think I had to concede anything to be with you?” Cheryl replies, frustrated.

  
“Not enough! I – when we were together, I just wanted you to be happy. I let us be a secret, the whole year, and I would have told people about us. I was happy with who I was! You used to know that.” Josie shoots back, bitterly.

  
“I know that! I’m sorry, I can't take it back, but of course I know! Josie, please –“ Cheryl pleads.

  
“I don’t think I can trust you to know you’re hurting me, Cheryl!” Josie cuts through, tears now streaming freely down her face.

  
There is a momentary silence, in which Josie almost wishes Cheryl would be her usual proud self and storm out. But she doesn’t. She stands her ground, crying but keeping Josie’s gaze.

  
“I think – I can’t do this right now, Cheryl, it just hurts. I think – you should go.” Josie says, feeling emotionally exhausted.

  
As she goes to try and open the door, Cheryl stands in front of it, wild eyed and desperate.

  
“What are you doing?” Josie says with some frustration. Why does everything with her have to be a production? Then an unfair voice pipes up that that’s probably why they worked together.

  
Cheryl stares back at her.

  
“I don’t like admitting weakness, Josie – It wasn’t what I was ever brought up to do! But I know – I know I’ve got some problems to deal with, and I’m trying to. I pre-emptively ruined things between us because I was afraid of you leaving me, again. It hurt – _enough_ – the first time.”

  
Josie doesn’t know what to say to this. She’s not sure that she physically can say anything to this.

  
Cheryl looks at her – fiery, vulnerable, a force of nature. “ _I love you_ , Josie. There are very few people who I do. That hasn’t changed,” she pauses, and takes a breath. “But I will go, and you can leave and never see me again, if you can say honestly that you don’t still feel the same.”

  
Josie’s heart hammers, and her mind screams _STOP DON’T TRAP WRONG WAY GO BACK_

  
“Tell me you don’t still love me, Josie,” Cheryl asks, and it’s a challenge, but also, instead of being part of any kind of power play - it’s just a raw appeal from a broken-up looking woman.

  
Josie knows the smart answer might be no. Or she always assumed it was that. But maybe now, in this moment, she could be confusing the smart answer with the safe answer.

  
“How can we work? We don’t even live in the same place! I don’t – ” she begins, stressing the logistics, like she always does. And then something occurs to her.

  
She puts a hand to her eyes to wipe away some tears, and takes a determined breath. “ _Fuck it._ I love you,” Cheryl gasps softly.  “I don’t know… I’m afraid. I can’t say I totally trust you…but God, I love you –”

  
She doesn’t finish because all she knows is that she’s kissing Cheryl. She doesn’t even know who started it, and it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is this moment, just them. Just all the memories. Just the beginning of something new.

  
This moment might have ended, at least Josie wouldn’t have been the one to end it, and then Cheryl’s phone rings.

  
She laughs very softly, resting her head against Josie’s.

  
“I’m not answering it,” she says, defiantly. “Whoever it is will have to do without my excellence.”

  
Josie laughs quietly. “Sucks to be them.”

  
Their kiss is once again interrupted by her phone.

  
“I’m so sorry, Josie, I’ll turn it off,” Cheryl says apologetically, pulling her phone out of her pants pocket.

  
Josie laughs, and looks at her affectionately. “It’s fine, sounds important. Go on, I won’t be mad.”

  
Cheryl looks at her gratefully, and picks up the call. “This better be important…”

  
After a short, brisk but surprisingly nice-sounding conversation, Cheryl hangs up. “Ugh, the committee are all idiots. I took today off work so I could help them set the auditorium up for tonight, but sounds like they have no idea what they’re doing…obviously, though, it’s way less important than being here, though.”

  
Josie shakes her head. As much as she wants to stay here and not have the rest of the world intrude, she’s feeling light and generous. This isn’t the end of them, they’re just beginning. She can spare an afternoon.

  
“I’m sure we don’t want to go a party that wasn’t planned by you. Go, and – rule those committee idiots with an iron fist,” she says, with a laugh.

  
Cheryl smirks. “Are you sure? I would totally rather stay here with you, but someone’s gotta do it.”

  
Josie grabs her phone off the bed to check the time, and sees Val’s text. “Oh my God, I totally blanked! – I’m supposed to be hanging out with Val & Mel in like twenty minutes anyway, and cabs here are not reliable if you're in a hurry.”

  
Cheryl looks relieved, maybe that she’s not just the one leaving. “I can give you a lift if you want?”

  
Josie beams, and kisses her. “That would be great.”

  
As she picks up her bag and jacket, she turns to see Cheryl is looking at her with a curious look, even though she’s still smiling.

  
“What?” she asks, grinning.

  
“So you're all friends again? That’s so great.” Cheryl says, genuinely beaming.

  
“Yeah, I’m going over to Mel’s actually because she found her old drumkit and we thought it would be fun to have a bit of a practice, for old time’s sake.” Josie says, as they leave the room.

  
“Interesting.” Cheryl replies, enigmatically.

  
***

  
“Stop it – God, you’re such a child – “ Jughead scolds, although the effect is fairly ruined by him laughing.

  
“What am I doing? Come on, just take it,” Archie teases, holding a butter knife above his head.

  
Music filters in from the living room, although given there’s no wall separating it, it fills the kitchen as well. Archie had insisted on putting some music on but hamstrung by his Dad’s much smaller collection, he had landed on an old CD he said was perfect for nostalgia – he used to hear when he was little, it was one of the few bands that his parents both shared a liking for.

_  
Smilin' in the bright lights, comin' through in stereo, when everybody loves you, you can never be lonely_

  
“I can just get another one, I don’t need –” He says half-heartedly, accidentally backing into the counter. “I regret everything, I’ve made a huge mistake here,” he says, but again his expression of fond exasperation probably isn’t convincing, especially going by Archie’s smirk.

  
They had decided to come down and attempt to make some breakfast, and had settled on making toast – a normal adult thing to do, that had nonetheless led to some kind of play-fight where Archie had stolen his knife and was attempting to hold it out of his reach.

  
Archie seemingly loses interest in the knife, smirking at him, close to him now. It’s a kind of look he’s not used to seeing from him, especially directed at him – but he can’t say that he minds. In a way, if he didn’t know what a mess Archie was, that look would be way too intimidating. It’s confident, intense, but also incredibly warm. It makes him feel like Archie doesn’t want anyone else but him here, in front of him, and it’s a strange feeling to get used to.

  
“Hello,” he says softly, smiling at him.

  
“Hello,” he replies, smiling easy and slow back.

  
He takes advantage of Archie’s momentary distraction to steal the knife, and Archie mock-gasps.

  
“I see how it is!” Archie says, easily pinning his arms against the counter, but with no more force than one would use in play fighting a child, or a young sibling. This is disheartening, because it’s not like he doesn’t exercise ever.

  
“Do you give in?” Archie crows.

  
“God, fine you – “ He says, and Archie is mid-lean for a kiss when he stops at the look on Jughead’s face.

  
“What?”

  
It’s only the smallest of probabilities, but if a sinkhole could just open up beneath his feet and suck him in whole right now that would be great.

  
The last fifteen or so hours have felt stretched in time to him, like it can’t have just been yesterday afternoon that he was even considering telling Archie. They’ve crossed oceans of time since then, talking, not talking, and getting to know each other again. Their relationship had made a truly seismic shift; one that made him forget that there was even any outside world and indeed, anyone else in it.

  
Until this very minute.

  
“Your dad,” he mouths, and a little colour drains from Archie’s face.

  
“Ah,” he says quietly, now beginning to flush red, and attempting to casually release Jughead’s arms and turn around in a fluid, nonchalant movement.

  
Fred and Hermione are standing, stopped just before the living room becomes the kitchen, looking awkward and surprised.

  
Jughead wonders how he didn’t register anything when he should have been able to see them come in – but the music is loud enough. And, he has to admit, he wasn’t really paying much attention to anything else, too wrapped up in the moment.

  
“Hi Dad,” Archie says, smiling and attempting some kind of blasé tone, but betrayed by how red his ears are going. “How was the city?”

  
It doesn’t look great, if they were ever going to ease Fred into the idea that’s pretty much out the window – Archie is shirtless and messy-haired, and Jughead’s wearing his old dressing gown. Not anything too scandalous, but also very hard to deny when put together with how they were when Fred and Hermione walked in.

  
“Good, good.” Fred replies, also attempting a casual, everything’s-normal smile. It’s times like this Jughead can more clearly see how they’re related, and it reminds him of so much that had almost faded away in his memories as he got older.

  
“We made good time from the city, actually. Not as much traffic as I expected.” Fred continues.

  
“Yeah, we texted you because we weren’t sure if you’d be in, but I guess you didn’t get it…” Hermione adds, trailing off awkwardly, less practiced than the Andrews men at not mentioning the elephant in the room.

  
“Yeah…” Archie replies.

  
“Also, uh, Hi Jug. Good to see you.” Fred says, and Jughead nods clumsily, startled at being addressed.

  
“Yeah, good to see you. Work’s been, intense, so, but good to see you guys,” he babbles.

  
Archie snickers very faintly, and he has to work very hard not to smile at this.

  
“Counting Crows, huh? I haven’t heard this album since you were little, Arch. I didn’t realise you liked them.” Fred says, after a moment, smiling less awkwardly. Music is a comfortable and easy thing for him to talk about. No one’s moved to turn the stereo off yet, so the music continues.  

  
Archie nods, smiling more genuinely. “I – yeah, I do… I was looking for something to play, and it was this or like, the entirety of 90s Seattle grunge. So much Nirvana, Dad.”

  
Fred half-chuckles. “Hey, you gotta pay your respects to those who came before you, son.”

  
Archie chuckles. The awkward tension in the room is dissipating.

  
Hermione smiles graciously at them. She shares it with her daughter, a sort of – even-if-I-don’t-know-what’s-going-on-I’m-going-to-take-charge-of-the-situation – smile.

  
“Well, we were going to put our bags away, and then make some lunch -  you’re both welcome to join, if you don’t already have plans?” she asks, warmly.

  
Archie looks at him quickly, raising his eyebrows. There’s no way for them to discuss this quickly without offending Hermione, so he just nods subtly, and looks back at her.

  
“Yeah, if you’ve got enough. I didn’t mean to intrude –” he agrees.

  
She shakes her head. “We’re always happy to see you, Jug. And we’ve got more than enough, so don’t worry about it…I’ll leave you to get dressed,” she says, and winces very slightly at the end.

  
Archie nods. “Thanks, Hermione. I – uh, appreciate this. A lot.”

  
She beams at him, and his ears begin to redden again.  Fred nudges her, and they take their bags back into the hall.

  
They take one look at each other and crack up laughing.

  
“God, I thought I didn’t get embarrassed that easily, but wow.” Archie says, wheezing from how much they’d been laughing. “That might have been worse than the time he didn’t knock and Val and I were making out.”

  
Jughead raises an eyebrow. “Really? That sounds pretty tame compared to –“

  
Archie shakes his head. “No it was pretty bad, we were both, uh, shirtless.”

  
Jughead snickers at this.

  
“You think you’re embarrassed? That was mortifying, and you know that I don’t say that lightly.” he says, still laughing.

  
He has no idea what he’s going to say to Fred. How to explain this to someone who’s known him since he was a kid, let him stay in his house, regularly had him over for dinners over the last few years – he still almost can’t believe it himself. 

  
“Ah well. Silver lining, I guess we don’t need to worry about telling him?” he deadpans.

  
Archie looks at him and they both crack up again. 

  
***

  
Josie finishes the final note of the song, and all three of them cheer.

  
“I think we’ve got it down,” Val laughs, behind her keyboard.

  
“Still got it!” calls Mel, from the drums.

  
“That was so fun!” Josie says, turning to face them.

  
Mel laughs. “Oh yeah, my parents’ garage is much more exciting than any kind of festival main stage.”

  
Josie shakes her head, exhilarated. “That’s fun, but I _miss this_. Not having anything riding on this, just having fun and playing music with you guys.”

  
Mel nods. “Me too. I haven’t been practicing too much lately with work being busy, but this was so good for me.”

  
Val smiles back at her, understanding. “Well, at least we’re all here now.”

  
She feels so light it’s almost scary – it’s been so long since so much went right for her, at the same time. It’s enough to make her worry, but she’s trying not to stress about it.

  
“Do you want to do another one?” she asks, beaming.

  
“Actually, I wanna address something that I didn’t bring up, when you got here.” Mel replies, looking at her suspiciously.

  
Josie feels a small frisson of panic in her stomach.

  
Mel smirks. “Was that Cheryl’s car I saw dropping you off?”

  
“Ooh, yeah I was wondering that,” Val agrees, smiling like when they used to tease Josie about her crush.

  
Josie cringes, feeling like she’s sixteen years old again, but also strangely happy even being teased. It feels so nostalgic.

“Yes, ok, she gave me a lift here,” she says demurely, but she can’t help grinning.

  
“Last time I saw you, yesterday, you were telling me it was unsalvageable. I told you! Also, Jesus, you move fast.” Mel points out.

  
Josie laughs. “Yeah, it’s been a _long week_. I mean, I had no idea – she came over just after you texted, and we talked it out, and it was all very emotional. I swear to God though, guys, I’m cried out – I’m gonna be the baddest bitch in town when I get home, because I’m pretty sure I literally can’t produce anymore tears. Which will obviously be good for my rep.”

  
Val and Mel laugh. Val walks around the keyboard to put an arm around her.

  
“I knew there was a reason you were so bubbly today!” she jokes.

  
Josie looks at the both of them. “I’m bubbly especially because I’m getting a second chance to hang out with my best girls, both of whom I missed a lot.”

  
“Aww, Josie. You say you’re a bad bitch but secretly you’re a softie, we know.” Mel says, walking up and putting her arm around Josie’s other shoulder.

  
Josie laughs. “Too many people know my secret now, agh!” she says, and they’re all hugging and laughing, and she closes her eyes for moment, smiling giddily. Despite what she had just said, she feels like she could definitely produce a few more tears, but she keeps a lid on it.

  
Her phone rings at that moment, and they release her to answer it.

  
“Hey mom, what’s up?” she says cheerfully.

  
“Hey baby, I just wanted to check in with you…you sound good! What’ve you been up to since – what, our lunch on Thursday?” her mom says, sounding surprised.

  
She bites her lip, because it almost makes her laugh. Even Thursday seems like a long time ago, but it’s hard to explain quickly over the phone.

  
“Seeing a few people, hanging out with Archie and Veronica, y’know. Got some exciting things I’d love to tell you over a lunch or something,” she says lightly.

  
“What are you doing for lunch today?”

  
She smiles and looks over at the girls, who are talking on the couch. “I’m afraid I can’t do today, sorry Mom. I’m hanging out with Mel and Val, we’re having a bit of a nostalgic band practice catch up.”

  
Her mom sounds taken aback, but pleasantly. “You’re – hanging out with them again? That’s great, Jose – don’t let me get in your way then. It’s just a shame that with that reunion tonight, we won’t have much time to see each other, if you’re going to fly out tomorrow. I do miss you, you know.”

  
“Well actually, I’m thinking of extending my stay a few days more – how does Sunday brunch sound?”

  
***

  
Lunch hadn’t actually been too awkward, despite what Archie had feared. It was almost normal, except for how no one mentioned the obvious – that something big had changed in the time Fred and Hermione had said goodbye to him on Friday. Other than that, he almost felt like the odd one out at the table, but not in a bad way. He watched them and Jughead get along in an easy, lived-in way and realised for the first time how they’d become closer, looked after him in the time he’d been away – and he couldn’t stop smiling about it.

  
He offers to help Hermione with the dishes, and she first declines kindly, saying that he’s a guest, but agrees when he persists. He almost can’t believe this is the same woman who used to have maids and didn’t do housework of any sort, but she’s clearly determined not to leave it all up to his dad, which he quietly appreciates.

  
He wipes plates and puts them away as they chat amiably, and then she pauses as he’s putting a glass in a cupboard, and he knows she’s about to address it.

  
She stops for a moment and smiles at him. “I know this isn’t how you do things,” she says quietly, and pauses, thinking. “But I just wanted  to say – while we just have less of an, audience, that I’m not asking what’s going on, or that you have to say anything about it – whatever it is, I’m just _thrilled_ to see you both look so happy.”

  
He smiles at her, touched and somehow a little bit surprised by it.

  
“I haven’t seen Jug, particularly, look like that in a long time,” she says, and smiles warmly at him. “I know he’s not a relation to me, but I’ve gotten to care a lot about him because of your Dad, and if that’s you then…I’m just thrilled. Because you mean a lot to me too, Arch, I care about you like my own.” She shakes her head, smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I just mean – it’s good to see you happy.”

  
He hugs her, ignoring her warning that her hands are wet. It gives him time to blink a little, and he feels able to answer when he pulls away.

  
“Thanks, Hermione. It means a lot. I mean, you mean a lot to me. If you weren’t here, I’d feel a lot worse about leaving my Dad here, but it’s like…I know he’s ok, because he’s got you,” he says, quietly, smiling.

  
Now she looks a little misty-eyed. “Thanks, Arch. You’ve got a good heart…I’m glad that big city hasn’t changed you too much.”

  
He chuckles, and picks up another plate to wipe up. “I guess, I can try, but I can’t really hide it.”

  
“Actually, have you talked to Veronica in the last day or so? She said that she would probably have plans for Friday, but she hasn’t replied to any texts that I’ve sent her since then.” Hermione asks, sounding puzzled.

  
He looks at her and remembers Veronica’s plan, and hopes it’s gone well. “No, but I might try and call her too. See how she’s going.”

  
Hermione nods, cheered.

  
*

  
Archie decides to visit Vegas outside in the yard.

  
He’s in a nice spot in under the shade of the big tree, and the sapling his Dad told him he’d planted has sprung into a healthily-growing tree – thinner than the old big trees now, but it’s only been – eight years?

_  
Eight years._

  
Looking at the grave hurts, but more distantly now. It’s been a long time.

  
He’d been drinking a beer by himself – Jughead had gone home to change and possibly take a nap before what he referred to as “tonight-mare”, albeit with a fond smirk – and had found himself drifting outside to look at the grave. He hadn’t been out to it yet, maybe he hadn’t been able to bring himself to before.

  
He raises the glass bottle in salute.

  
“Sorry I wasn’t here, buddy. Hope you’re happy now.” He says quietly, and he knows it’s ridiculous, but it makes him feel better. It’s not like he’s religious, but somehow he has no problem believing his beloved dog might get some kind of afterlife.

  
“I was wondering when you’d come out here.” He turns to see his Dad walking up to stand at the little grave with him.

  
He nods slowly. “Yeah, I needed some time.” He pauses, looking at it. “I really love it, though Dad…it’s perfect.”

  
His Dad smiles, a little sadly, his eyes familiarly crinkling at the edges. “Yeah, I thought he deserved it.”

  
They stand quietly for a moment. “I remember when we got him, he was so little. And so were you, I guess.” His dad says, smiling at the memory.

  
Archie grins. “But really, you shouldn’t have let a six-year-old name him. I have no idea where I picked up that name.”

  
“I think I mentioned something about Las Vegas to your Mom once, and you picked up on the word and wouldn’t call him anything else.”

  
Archie chuckles.

  
“So…you’re an adult and can do what you like, obviously…but is there anything I should know about what’s been going on?” His Dad asks, carefully.

  
There it is. The ‘what did we come back to’ talk, part two. He smiles sheepishly, and focuses on looking at the flowers blooming on the grave.

  
“Ah, yeah…” He says, and takes a breath. “So, I’m sure you’ve guessed, some things have, changed.”

  
“Yeah, that was pretty…” His dad replies, and trails off, looking intently at the grave. He briefly wonders whether he can just take off and run away from this conversation, and how long before he’d have to deal with the consequences. He takes another breath and steels himself, and looks back at his Dad.

  
“It’s kind of a long story, but – we’re together, Dad. Me and Jughead. I know, it’s kind of weird and unexpected –”

  
He’s surprised to see his Dad chuckle a little at this. “Not totally, Arch. I watched you kids grow up, remember? I already knew you loved each other, maybe I didn’t realise like – this, but mainly I’m more surprised that it happened after all these years of you guys not talking.” He pauses, grinning a little more. “And he slept in your room for months, despite the fact no one was using our guest room, so. It’s not a huge shock, once I think about it,”

  
Archie can feel his ears are hot, but he can’t help grinning too. “So, I guess _everyone_ worked it out before I did? _Fuck._ ”

  
“Hey, kid, you’re talking to someone who didn’t have things figured out when they were nearly twenty years older than you. Sometimes you gotta have experiences to learn what you want,” His Dad says kindly.

  
He turns to him again, feeling very grateful. “Thanks, Dad. So…you’re ok with it?”

  
His Dad looks mildly taken aback. “I’m no bigot, which you know, obviously. And just seeing the change in you today – I was actually, really worried about you when we left. You just looked so – _hollow._ Even while you were pretending you were ‘just tired’. But I figured you needed some space, and maybe you’d talk to me when I got home. I thought we’d just come home to you sleeping or watching TV or something…” he trails off, and his ears go pinker. It’s something they have in common, although Archie’s at this moment are redder.

  
He continues, “But you just look so _happy,_ when you look at him. In a way I haven’t seen on you, in years. So why wouldn’t I be? I want – more than anything – for the both of you to be happy, Arch. He’s kind of like – my other son,” he says, and then frowns. “But in a non-related to you way, of course…well, you get what I’m saying!”

  
Archie cringes, smiling. “Yeah, I get it. You might want to – not say that to other people though.”

  
His Dad laughs. “I’ll refine it.”

  
They stand in comfortable silence.

  
“Y’know, it was your Mom’s idea to buy you that dog.” His Dad says, cautiously. “She wasn’t sure she wanted to be pregnant again, or have another kid, but she wanted you to have a companion.”

  
Archie takes this in. “Also, guess it’s easier to leave a husband and one kid and a dog to start a new life, than two kids. They can’t gang up on you that way.” He says, more bitterly than he meant to.

  
His Dad looks at him, sympathetically. “I don’t think she ever wanted to leave you. Just here,” he pauses, and continues, “Are you going to tell her? She always cared about Jug, too, y’know. His mom and yours were pregnant around the same time, they were friends once… I’m sure she’d be happy to know.”

  
He looks at his Dad, taken aback. “They were friends?” he says, and then he shakes his head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. When am I going to tell her? Next July, when she calls me on my birthday for our usual horribly awkward talk?”

  
His Dad looks strangely remorseful, and looks at him with tired eyes.

  
“Arch, I – I know she’s made mistakes, and if I’m annoyed with her it’s mostly to do with her hurting you, even if she didn’t mean to. But don’t…” he sighs, like he can’t find the right words. “If you’re angry on my behalf, don’t be, I’m happy and I hope she is. But if you’re angry for yourself…Maybe you should try and tell her. Maybe you can work things out. Because I know, _I know,_ that despite any mistakes she’s made, and however things got so distant, she loves you _so much._ ”

  
Archie looks away, and finishes his last sip of beer, blinking in the wintry afternoon sun.

  
“Jughead said I should try and contact her too, actually. Is it a conspiracy between you guys?” he half-jokes.

  
His Dad smiles, still a little sadly. “Only if the conspiracy is two people who care about you a lot, and just want you to be happy.”

  
He nods, and takes a breath. “I am…happy. So maybe I can.”

  
***

  
Archie stares down at his phone. He had waited until Hermione and his Dad went to get groceries, so he could be alone to make this call, but now he’s just sitting on his bed paralysed, staring down at his phone.

  
He hasn’t willingly called the number in years. He realises he has no idea what she even does on Saturdays, what she’d even be doing right now. If he’d be interrupting.

  
But he has to now, or he’ll chicken out.

  
He clicks on her contact, and presses the call button.

  
It rings. His heart beats a fast tempo drumline.

  
He’s about to hang up and give up on the whole thing, when suddenly it gets picked up.

  
“Archie?” he almost hangs up out of shock.

  
“I’m sorry, I had to run from the other room, are you there?” his Mom asks, sounding a little out of breath, and surprised.

  
He finds his voice. “Uh – yeah. Are you busy? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just called –“ he croaks out.

  
“No, no, it’s fine,” she cuts in quickly. “I’m…not busy. And I’m always happy to hear from you.”

  
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His mind is a blank, and he can’t remember what he was even going to say.

  
“How are you?” she tries, hesitant.

  
“I’m – I’m good.” He replies, stiffly.

  
“That’s – good.” She echoes awkwardly.

  
They lapse into silence, and he steels himself. For a second, he remembers sitting next to Jughead right here, just last night, holding his hand and wishes he was still doing it. But he’ll see him soon enough. This is something he has to do by himself.

  
“Are you free to talk? Like, I need to say some things but if you’ve got to be anywhere soon it might be a bad idea,” he asks tentatively.

  
He hears her breathe in and out on the other end of the line. “No, I’m just home by myself. What is it? Oh god, are you sick?” she says, and her voice gets more worried as she finishes the sentence, like it’s only just occurred to her.

  
“No, no, I’m not.” He says quickly, and sighs. “It’s pretty fucked up though, that that’s the only obvious reason I would call you, isn’t it?”

  
She breathes in and out, measured. “Yeah, it is that.”

  
“I guess I’m not innocent here. It’s been fucked up on both ends, and I guess I stopped trying to see you, because it was easy to be busier with touring and recording and writing and whatever the fuck else,” he says slowly, considering his words. “But – you did it too. You let yourself get busy, and you should have _tried more_ because you’re the parent! You’re my parent and you let this just happen!”

  
He breaks off into a shaky breath.

  
“I know, I know and I’m so sorry, hon,” she says, in a voice already heavy with remorse.

  
“Why didn’t you _try_ harder? Is your life just easier without me in it?” he continues, trying to stop his voice shaking.

  
“No, no, no, Archie, no! I regret this distance between us _every day_ , every day I think of you and I’m too afraid to call. My life has a hole without you in it!” she says, sounding anguished and small.

  
“Clearly not that big! Why don’t you ever call me, except on my birthday, if you miss me so much? Why do you _even bother_?” he raises his voice in frustration, hating how upset he already is.

  
She takes a moment to reply. “I should, I know – but I’ve felt for the past few years that I’m just an inconvenience to you – you never even want to tell me anything about your life anyway, and I get it, but it doesn’t make me feel like I can just call you when I feel like it. I couldn’t give up the birthday phone calls because they’re my last – my last link to you, hon,” she says, in a small, choked voice.  
  
“And you and your Dad have this bond that I felt I couldn’t – break into. And then he got married, and I’m sure Hermione’s a really great stepmom. Probably less of a fuck-up.”

  
“Don’t _give me that bullshit,_ I didn’t ever want to replace you with her, and I never tried to. And yeah, maybe I’m busier now, but you set up this distance before I even left high school!” He thunders, not trying to stop it shaking now. It feels like a football-sized lump is rising in his throat, but he keeps on.  “God, I’m so _angry_ at you, Mom! You just left – you just left us here, you left me, and I wasn’t old enough to lose you!”

  
He realises he’s started crying, silent tears tracing tracks down his cheeks. He feels so tired, already emotionally worn out from this week.

  
He can hear her crying over the phone too. “I’m so sorry, there’s no good excuse, Arch. I know I left you, but I never wanted to, you have to believe that.”

  
“I don’t know, Mom! Some people only leave their kids because their husband is a drunk, and they’re worried for their and their kids’ safety, but one of them _refuses_ to leave, to stay to look after their parent. We had none of that! How _could you_? Did you not love us? Did you not – did you not love me? Did you _regret me_?” he yells into the phone, and he feels about two minutes away from a panic attack but it’s strangely cathartic as well.

  
He breathes heavily and waits for her to reply. He can hear her trying to stop crying, breathing in and out.

  
She breathes out and speaks, sounding very small and sorrowful. “ _Oh my darling,”_ he has a flash of her saying that to him, very young, a memory he thought he’d totally lost. “God, I admit I wasn’t ready for your birth. There were a lot of…reasons, why, and maybe I shouldn’t have married your Dad. But none of it matters – maybe I should have told you this earlier, but I _never_ wanted you to feel like I didn’t want you; that I didn’t – _love you_. I loved you from the moment I saw you. But I… needed some help, to get happier and be a good mom for you, and I _tried so goddamn hard,_ Arch.”

  
He feels paralysed again, focusing on only her words and breathing in and out steadily, trying to keep panic at bay.

  
“And I did it, in so much as you ever can with that sort of thing. I promised you I would get better, and be a good mom, and I did it. I never wanted to stay in that small town, and barring certain things I would have probably never stayed longer than a few months after college.”

  
He unsticks his vocal chords indignantly. “So it’s my fault? I’m to blame for you leaving?”

  
“No, no, honey, please – I’m just trying to explain,” she says quickly, sadly. “I tried to build a life in the town that I spent all my teenage years waiting to leave. And I did, for a while. But – I got that job opportunity here in Chicago when you were thirteen, and I knew you would never want to leave your dad, and your friends and your house. But there were a lot of bad memories there for me, and the chance to escape them was _just –_ it felt like a lifeline. I wanted to have you here; I wanted to be in your life, even just on the phone but I kept missing you in that last year before you went off to Los Angeles. I didn’t know how to fix it, and you didn’t have much time to visit me, and I know I was busy a lot that year too, and I wish I’d made more of an effort then. What does work mean if you hate me?”

  
He sighs deeply, gets his voice under control. “I don’t – I don’t _hate_ you, Mom. But I _wish –_ I so _fucking wish_ that you hadn’t left me at that age. I needed you there, Mom! You know what happens to a kid whose only parent is busy trying to keep up with mortgage payments, and keep a business afloat?” he asks, voice strained and continues with, “They can get away with a lot. Because they’re not supervised, and no-one else is there to ask them what they’re – what they’re doing…”

  
He feels panic rising again, and tries to regulate his breathing before it becomes a full-on attack and he can’t remember how to.

  
“I don’t – what are you saying, hon?” she says, sounding confused, but afraid, like she knows something big is coming.

  
“I’m saying –” his voice shakes uncontrollably. “You should have _been there._ You should have been there to ask me why thirty-five year old women in fucking _vintage blue VW Beetles_ were dropping me home after working at Dad’s – you should have asked _what kind of teacher does that?_ – you should have been there and asked _where I was going_ and _why I was sneaking back in at midnight, or fucking one am at fifteen! I was fifteen, and you should have fucking known about it but you decided I could FUCKING FEND FOR MYSELF, AND I NEEDED YOU THERE!”_ He roars, voice constricted with emotion and he sits there, heaving with sobs, feeling like he’s finally released a ten-tonne weight he’d been carrying on his shoulder for twelve years.

  
She had gasped a few times during his rant, but now he can only hear her breathing.

  
“Oh my god. Oh my god. _Oh my god,”_ she repeats, quietly horrified, like she’s locked in a loop. She sounds like she’s in shock, even though she’s only hearing it.

  
He can’t say anything, so he just sits there and cries.  
  
“How,” she starts suddenly, sounding aghast. “That was – that was less than _two years_ after – why didn’t you tell me…does your Dad know?”

  
He sighs, a shaky breath out. “Yep.”

  
She gasps, not dramatically but like she can’t help it. “Why didn’t he tell me? I would have come back earlier, oh my _God…_ ” her words are cut off by a horrified sob.

  
He breathes in and out. “I asked him not to. I thought you’d freak out, and I didn’t think anything really _bad_ had happened, just sort of – socially wrong…” he lets out a shaky, bleak laugh. “You know, I  wish – I wish _now,_ he’d been angrier. It’s not his style though…We kind of, without saying it, agreed not to talk about it. We don’t.”

  
“God, I’m just so sorry…I know that’s not enough, I’m so –” she breaks off, with the sound of a swallowed sob. 

  
“What happened to her? Did you try to – prosecute her?” she asks, suddenly. He almost laughs, it’s such a lawyer thing to say.

  
“No, when we got found out – she offered to quit her job and leave town, and she did. She was gone the next day. And it’s not like at time I wanted –” he breaks off. “Don’t be angry at Dad. He was dealing with enough, and he really thought getting her out of town and out of my life was the most important thing.”

  
“I’m glad that he did that,” she says, her voice achingly small and broken.

  
“Yep.” He takes a few more measured breaths and begins to talk again. “I – I think, ever since she left I began to get this growing feeling – I thought she loved me,” he can’t help barking out the same strange, bleak laugh. “But I was realising that maybe she didn’t, and then I realised a lot of things had been fucked up. Maybe I’ve been… subconsciously blaming you for it for not being here, ever since.”

  
“You should blame me. I should have been there to ask you those things, hon, I should’ve been there,” she says, sounding utterly heartbroken. “I’m so _fucking_ selfish. You were my greatest achievement, really, and I _wish_ I’d tried harder to get you to come with me or to stay with you until you were – older…” she dissolves into tears.

  
It’s strange – before this conversation his general feelings towards her had been a painful ball of anger, frustration and grief, but since he had gotten the secret off his chest, he found he didn’t want to punish her anymore. Her reaction to it was probably punishment enough.

  
“Mom, mom, listen to me. I used to not at all understand you, really, why you left, how you could do it,” he says comfortingly. “But, I’ve come to realise we’re more alike than I want to admit sometimes. I have a habit of letting important relationships go, because I’m afraid and it’s too hard to fix when I’ve hurt someone. I hurt people I cared a lot about because of it. And I left this crappy town, because I had to get out too, and I left people here who were devastated by that.”

  
She sniffles on the other end of the line.

  
“But if they can give me a second chance, after I haven’t seen them in so long…maybe I can give you one.” He says, uncertainly. 

  
“Really, hon?” she asks softly, like she doesn’t believe him.

  
“You’re my _mom._ Of _fucking course_ I miss you…” he sniffs.

  
“I miss you too, honey, _so much_. Every day. When I hear you and your friend’s songs on the radio – and they’re really good, and I’m usually too old to enjoy pop music, so,” she says, with a wetly self-deprecating laugh.

  
He half-laughs, a similarly sodden sound.

  
“Whenever I go to the places I used to take you when you’d come here. When I ever go to Millenium Park and I look at the “weird bean sculpture” that you liked. I miss you everywhere.”

  
“Me too.” He says, smiling at the memory.

  
“Can I come and visit you? I can come to L.A, and I’ll get time off – that is, if you want me too. I don’t want to overstep…” she asks, cautiously hopeful sounding.

  
“No, I would –  I’d like that, Mom.” He says, smiling, even though he feels light-headed from crying.

  
“When? I actually don’t care what work says, I’ll come to L.A whenever. I’d come tomorrow if you wanted it,” she says, half-jokingly.

  
“Yeah – actually, I’m not in L.A. right now. I’m actually sitting in my old bedroom, right now,” he says, remembering she has no way of knowing on just a voice call.

  
“Your old bedroom?” she says, surprised. “In Riverdale? Are you visiting your Dad?”

  
He sighs, thinking about the last week. “It’s actually been the first time I’ve been back since I flew to L.A – Josie and I got invited to our ten year reunion here.”

  
“That’s interesting. I obviously didn’t go to mine, but then again I did attend that Homecoming Reunion thing, so that was…something. Have you had the reunion yet?”

  
He can’t help an involuntary weak laugh. “We’ve had a few. But the official one is tonight.”

  
“Ah, interesting. So, have the reunions been good?”

  
He laughs again, still weakly. “It’s been…a lot. But I’m so glad I came. I had some wrongs to right. We both did.”

  
“I guess…it’s nice to have a friend with you. I don’t know Josie well, but you guys seem close.” She continues, carefully.

  
He smiles, looking out the window. “Yeah, she’s awesome. Maybe you can get to know her better sometime.”

  
“I’d like that…” she says quietly, unmistakeably happier. “So – do you still see Jughead? He was a good kid.”

  
He smiles wider, fighting down a laugh. “It’s kind of a long story, but uh…we’re dating now.”

  
He’s not sure what her reaction will be. He realises he’s never actually told her he’s bisexual, and the whole struggle to becoming comfortable with that label, if publicly secretive about it. Nor does she know about the ten years he didn’t speak to Jughead, or why it feels like such a personal triumph. It’s strange to realise how little they know about each other, now.

  
She takes a second to respond, but sounds very happy, if surprised. “Wow, Archie, that’s so great! I guess I really am out of the loop,” she says, self-deprecatingly. “Since when?”

  
He can’t help but laugh this time. “Abooout…nineteen hours ago, maybe? And before this week I hadn’t seen him since I left town…”

  
She laughs too, sounding surprised. “Wow. You’ve had a big week, then.”

  
“Yeah.” He says, feelingly. Understatement of the year, but not wrong.

  
He feels like he wants to tell her things, like a more vulnerable early-teenage him is poking out, excited to talk to her like this again, but he hesitates to ask.

  
“Hon, I just want to say – I’m not sure it matters as much to you as your Dad, or,” she pauses a moment. “Clearly, I’ve got some catching up to do with you. But I just want you to know that – I’m _overjoyed_ you sound so happy. No thanks to me, I guess… but I hope you know that I love you. _Everything_ about you. And I’m excited to get to know you again.”

  
He needs a moment or two before he can respond. He focuses on a tree outside the window until his vision clears.

  
“Me too, Mom,” he says, throatily. “I – I love you too.”

  
***

  
Jughead sits at home, having showered and dressed, and picks up his phone.

  
“Hey kid. What’s goin’ on?” his Dad answers.

  
His Dad often calls him _kid_ , like he’s not an adult now, like he hadn’t learned how to not be a kid from a very early age, but he’s learned not to mind. It’s kind of affectionate, something he was not so good with when Jughead was growing up.

  
“Just wondering if you’re busy? If not, I was thinking of coming over to say hi? Maybe eat a late lunch? I could bring burgers from the diner, if you want,” he asks.

  
“No I’m not - sounds great, Jug. Guess I’ll see you in what, half an hour? Forty-five?” his Dad replies, sounding pleased.

  
“See you then,” he says, with a small smile.

  
*

  
He makes his way over with two burgers, and a side of onion rings. He makes sure always to tip generously at Pop’s, which he sees as basically paying off all the free or discounted food and coffee he’d been allowed there when it was almost another home for him. Pop had kindly turned a blind eye to and mostly refused to take his money for it, stating that his mom had been a hard-worker and a good, kind woman and her son would always be treated well there, even if she wasn’t working there anymore.

  
He knocks on the door of the mobile home, and enters. It’s always heartening to see that his Dad’s cleaned up the place. It’s a good indicator of his mental state, though he’s never gone back to how bad he was just before Jughead finished college.

  
His Dad hasn’t shaved, but it’s short enough that the growth is probably only a few days old. That’s one of his routines; he makes sure he keeps a routine of shaving and cleaning the trailer. One of the things he learned in the program and took to heart.

  
His Dad hugs him on seeing him. He might have been mostly bad at showing affection when Jughead was much younger, but credit where credit is due, he’s gotten steadily better at it. This might be especially due to them continuously trying to work on their relationship over the years.

  
“Hey, Jug. What’s with you?” he asks, squinting a little at him, “You look happier’n a pig in shit,”

  
Jughead realises that he’s smiling probably more than usual.

  
“Not that that’s a bad thing, of course.” His Dad adds hastily. “Just wondering.”

  
Jughead nods, grinning. “Yeah…some things that I’m gonna tell you about. But let’s eat – I brought burgers, and onion rings.”

  
His Dad smiles widely. “Good man.”

  
They’ve always been good at talking when there’s food – like a kind of distraction, not having to react to everything when your mouth is full. Jughead’s always been comforted by having food nearby, particularly burgers. When you’re not sure whether you’ll be fed or have money to feed yourself, you get trained to always eat what’s on your plate and never turn down anything edible. It’s something he has discussed with his therapist, a crutch he didn’t even realise he was using. He sometimes wonders he’s not the size of a house, but his body has stubbornly stayed gawky and thin even despite efforts to exercise, maybe put on the barest amount of muscle.

  
“This new parking lot is almost finished. The client seem like they’re gonna bring in more jobs, which is good. Fred’s happy about it.” His Dad says, mildly.

  
“That’s good.” Jughead replies. He’s not sure what else to say, but he tries very hard not to seem condescending about his dad’s life. It’s small, mostly unexciting, sure – but he’s doing really, _really_ well for a sober ex-alcoholic with a sporadic employment record and a history of run-ins with the law.

  
He smiles, a bit twisted. This is where Jughead feels most closely related to him, in that look. He’s always been more handsome than Jughead feels like he is, even with age and gone to seed – in older photos he can really see what drew beautiful, four-years younger Laura to him, but sometimes he thinks that JB got their attractive genes for herself, and skipped over him mostly.

  
“Fuck, I’m boring _myself_ here, Jug! Tell me what’s going on with you. Last time we talked I think you said,” he pauses to think about it, “You said, you and Red were going to catch up. Takes a lot for a man to forget being proud over past slights, and make the first move in reconciliation. Proud of you.”

  
Jughead looks at his Dad in bemusement. “Come up with that yourself?”

  
His Dad chuckles. “Something someone said at AA last week.”  

  
Jughead smiles, and nods.

  
“So how did it go? You guys work anything out?” His Dad asks, and smiles a little wistfully. “I remember you two as kids, thick as thieves. I sometimes look at you, and I think if you’re so grown up now, what does that make me? Sometimes I forget I’m not twenty-two anymore…then I look in the mirror, and I see an old man looking back,” he chuckles. “So, yeah, you work it out?”

  
Jughead sighs, wondering how to explain. “Uh, yeah, something like that,” he says, and looks at his Dad. “There might be some changes coming up, and I wanted to ask how you’d feel about,” he pauses, feeling his mouth going dry. “If I moved away from here, maybe, sometime. Sooner, rather than later.”

  
His Dad looks surprised, but nods as he takes it. “You get a job somewhere else?”

  
“Dad, come on, just tell me what you think. Nothing’s certain,” he says, although he realises while saying it, that it’s at least kind of a lie. He’s never been more certain about anything in his life, and while nothing’s been decided, he can’t see Archie wanting to come back and live here with him.

  
He nods. “Ok, ok. I’d be a little sad, I guess – you’re my boy, I like being able to see you easily.”

  
Jughead’s stomach drops.

  
His dad isn’t finished, though. “But your sister lives in the city, and I still see her pretty regularly, right?”

  
He acknowledges it with a nod.

  
“If you’re here, there, or the other fuckin’ side of the world, we’ll find a way to keep in touch, Jug. I know I haven’t always been there for you, but I’m trying to be now. That won’t change if you’re not here.” His dad says, looking at him seriously.

  
He has a sinking feeling though, and he looks away for a moment, then looks back.

  
“If I did leave…I would just – I’d want to feel like you had someone here. To check in on you, and see how you’re going. I don’t think I want to leave you if that’s not the case.” He says carefully, feeling pained.

  
His dad sighs, and for a moment, looks tired and as old as he actually is. “Jug…Jug, you’re breaking my heart here. You’re always looking after me, you always have. When your mom and JB left, you tried to make sure I’d be ok, even though maybe you’d have been better off… When I fucked up so badly I thought you’d want nothing to do with me, you put yourself last _again_ , to help your Dad…” he breaks off. His eyes are full of some deep emotion, and he rubs them tiredly.

  
“There’s never gonna be a time when everyone’s perfectly happy. But I need you to put yourself first, whatever this new change is… _God_ , get out of this craphole town, you’re too smart for this place, kid. We’ll be ok. You need to do whatever this is for _you_ , ok?” He says, imploringly.

  
Jughead breathes deeply, feeling emotional as well. “Thanks, Dad,” he says quietly.

  
His dad smiles weakly. “If I can give you advice on anything, it’s that.”

  
He waits a beat. “You don’t need to tell me, y’know. But what…is it?”

  
Jughead feels his cheeks go warm. It’s not like his Dad has no idea about him, had even met Kit once or twice – and been aware of who he was; but it’s also not like they talk about either of their love lives with each other. It’s not something they do.

  
He takes a deep breath.

  
“So I said I worked things out with Archie…that’s true, but not – we’re together. Romantically, together, I mean.” Why did he need to qualify it? Of course _together_ is enough. He stops himself babbling by shoving an onion ring in his mouth, still feeling his cheeks are hot.

  
He makes himself look at his Dad, and is somewhat surprised by how chill he seems to be. He’s nodding slowly, smiling, with an almost melancholic look in his eyes.

  
“You and Red, huh? Ok.” He says simply.

  
He looks at his Dad, surprised. “That’s it? I haven’t seen him for a decade and you’re not at all surprised by this?”

  
His Dad shrugs. “People are complicated, sure. But they’re also essentially who they always were. Plus, I guess it’s hard to forget your first love.”

  
He’s certainly taken back by this. “How –”

  
His Dad grins, a little wistful. He’s generally wistful-looking a good eighty-percent time of the time, though. “I might have had some substance problems when you were growing up, but I wasn’t blind. I was young once, I remember what it looks like.”

  
He sighs, smiling a little ruefully. “Yeah. If we’d been smarter we might have figured it out earlier.”

  
“Yeah, well life’s a bit like that,” he says wisely. “But as a friend of mine at my meetings likes to say, ‘Everything happens for a reason’,” he frowns a little. “Not sure I completely believe that, but maybe some things, good, bad, happen for a reason. I don’t know. She’s a nice woman. Not an idiot.”

  
Jughead smirks curiously at him. “You like her?”

  
His dad grins abashedly. He flushes in the exact same way, it’s another way he sees their resemblance. “We’re talking about your love life, not mine! You don’t wanna know about mine. Very boring.”

  
“Sure, sure. Maybe you should ask her out.” he says, half-teasing.

  
“We’re friends!” his Dad protests, but he’s smiling.

  
***

  
“Dad just dropped me off – Jose, I’m literally walking in,” he says, laughing, into his phone. “Ok, see you in like two minutes.”

  
He nods jovially at old Mrs Baker, who gives him a knowing smile.

  
He feels excited, strangely, as he knocks on Josie’s door.

  
She opens it, wearing her familiar patterned dressing gown. Her face is made up, and looks deeply, soulfully happy.

  
They almost don’t need to say anything – the outcomes of their different problems to solve are written in their expressions, they’d know if something bad had happened. So he just hugs her tightly.

  
After a while, she lets him go, and lets him come into the room.

  
Three different dresses are splayed on top of garment bags on the bed.

  
“Did you seriously bring all of these from L.A with you?” he asks, with a laugh.

  
She shakes her head at him in mock-annoyance. “It’s nice to have options, ok?”

  
He nods, grinning.

  
He recognises one of them. “Aw, is that your birthday present? Josie, you ol’ softie.”

  
She clearly can’t even pretend to be annoyed, and she beams at him. “It still fits fine. I was thinking of wearing it…I mean tonight’s basically a nostalgia-fest, why not?”

  
He grins. “I think you should.”

  
“So, not that I need to ask I think – but tell me how it went?” she asks excitedly. “I meant to call you this morning, but I got caught up – it’s a _story_ – and I was worried when you weren’t answering your phone. Well, I hoped it was just cause you were otherwise distracted.”

  
He can’t help smirking. “Yeah I also have a _story_ to tell you but I’m dying to hear about Val – you guys made up right? That’s why you’re so happy?”

  
Her eyes go wide like something has just occurred to her. “Oh my god, I didn’t tell you! So I’ll tell you the Val stuff, but I have to skip ahead to this morning first. I was getting ready to go out, and Cheryl appears at my door,”

  
“No!”

  
“Yes! So she’s there…”

  
***

  
“…and they kind of caught us like almost making out? It was one of the most awkward moments of my life. Maybe worse than the time I accidentally insulted Taylor Swift at that Grammys afterparty.”

  
“She was death-staring you _so much_ I was certain she was going to write a song about you _,_ called _Dear Ginger Idiot,_ ” Josie says, amid gales of laughter, remembering. “Almost making out though? How were you _almost_ making out?”

  
She looks at him, still laughing.

  
“Well we weren’t like – doing anything, but it was also pretty fucking obvious that we _had been_ , God, it was mortifying,” he laughs. “But kind of hilarious in hindsight. Dad and Hermione’s faces, oh man.”

  
“So hilarious,” she laughs. “That sounds even worse than the Val incident.”

  
He looks at her. “How do _you_ know about the Val incident?”

  
She gives him a very long-suffering look, and he looks sheepish. “Oh, yeah. And that was pretty bad.”

  
She can’t help laughing again. “It was. She was all, _oh my god Josie I’m gonna die of shame I can never look Mr Andrews in the face again he might have seen my bra oh my god_ , and I was like _I told you it was mistake to date Archie, I’m just saying._ ”

  
“God, and I forget sometimes how much you were against that. And me. For fair reasons, I’ll say,” he laughs, and adds defensively, “And I don’t think he saw anything, really, I dove in front of her and he shut the door almost immediately.”

  
“Really, Archie?” comes a teasing voice from the open door. “And here I thought it was just an embarrassing once-off when it happened with _my_ mom, but now I hear it’s a pattern?”

  
Josie turns to see Veronica walking up to them, an easy, contented smile on her face.

  
“Ronnie!” they both say, excited.

  
“And look, it’s not my fault that apparently your mom and my dad don’t know how to knock,” Archie adds, before hugging her.

  
“I’m guessing things went well for you guys?” she asks as she hugs Josie, sounding delighted.

  
“Yep.” Archie says simply, grinning.

  
“I’d say so,” Josie says. “But hey – I’m getting a lift from Archie via Jughead apparently, because Cheryl’s setting up at the school, why aren’t you getting ready with – oh no, did it not –”

  
Veronica beams, shaking her head. “No it did. Betty apparently agreed to help, and forgot about it, and didn’t want to piss Cheryl off by blowing her off – plus she wouldn’t do that, anyway. So, I was thinking I could maybe go with you guys?”

  
“The celebrity contingent, then?” Josie chuckles. “Definitely, you can come with us,”

  
“The celebrity contingent, and Jughead, my…boyfriend?” Archie frowns a little. “That sounds weird. I’m gonna have to figure that out.”

  
***

  
Betty has to admit, under Cheryl’s totalitarian micromanaging, the old high school auditorium looks pretty good.

  
“Tina, I swear to God – “ comes Cheryl’s voice, sounding very frustrated. But then surprisingly, she takes a breath and actually smiles at Tina. “Sorry, Tina. What I’m – trying – to say is, those balloons should go more to the right. Like I told you before. Which is fine, because I know you recently had a baby, and aren’t responsible for your new mommy-brain.”

  
Betty passes the very confused looking Tina Patel, and walks up to Cheryl.

  
“Wow, that was pretty nice of you, Cheryl,” she says, bemusedly.

  
Cheryl smiles beatifically. “Guess I’m in a generous mood today, one where idiotic behaviour of certain old classmates doesn't bother me at – Chas, if you’re moving those chairs away from where I told you to put them, I swear on my Nana’s grave, you’d better have a will!” she barks at a blonde ex-footballer from their year, then turns back to Betty with her smile back in place.

  
Betty grins. “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty good today myself.”

  
Cheryl beams at her. “You look positively radiant, actually. _Love_ that dress.” 

  
“Thank you, Cheryl, you look amazing, too. Now, I think I’ve finished all of my tasks, is there anything else you need right now?”

  
“You’re a lifesaver, and so far one of the only people here who has any idea what you’re doing. Could you go ask Reggie what drinks list his bartending staff are working off?” she asks, ticking something off on her phone.

  
“Got it,” she says, smiling.

  
She finds Reggie unloading bottles at the bar area that’s been set up.

  
“Betty, hey,” he says, smiling when he sees her, then he frowns. “Wait, Cheryl sent you here didn’t she? What does she want _now_?”

  
She cringes. “Sorry. She needs to know the drinks list you’re using?”

  
He sighs dramatically. “God, that woman’s going to be the death of me.” He turns to one of his bartenders. “Jem, can I get a drink list off you?”

  
He hands the list to her. “She better not want to change anything. This is what’s happening.”

  
Betty smirks. “Oh, are you gonna tell her that if she does?”

  
He snorts. “Of course not. You’re gonna do it for me.”

  
She laughs, and turns back. Kevin is over sorting nametags with Cheryl, and they look deep in conversation.

  
“Drinks list, done,” she says, handing it to Cheryl.

  
Cheryl looks at it, and Betty braces for some kind of spat, but then she smiles and puts it down. “I’m sure he thinks I’m being controlling, but I was just making sure no-one who is coming is allergic to anything. I do _care_ , you know. We do this for a living.”

  
Kevin nods. “Amen to that,” he says, and then to Betty, kindly, “How are you doing? Feeling better?”

  
Cheryl looks as confused as she feels for a moment. “Better?” she asks, not registering his meaning.

  
He looks at her, confused. “Than you were Thursday night?”

  
She can feel herself blush. “Oh my god, ok, yeah. Everything’s fine. Better than fine. We’re good.”

  
Cheryl raises an eyebrow, smiling. “Veronica?”

  
She nods, beaming. Cheryl smiles victoriously. “Don’t say I never do anything for you, Cooper. I had to browbeat some poor assistants to get the number that got her here.”

  
She rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop smiling. “Thankyou, Cheryl.”

  
Kevin smirks at them happily. “Aw, look at you two, with your new-old girlfriends. I’m so proud, it’s more than my little gay heart can take.”

  
Cheryl laughs, shaking her red hair over her shoulder.

  
Betty takes a minute to register, then looks at Cheryl. “Wait, you too? Wow. This has been _a week._ ”

  
“Is that why you’ve been in such a good mood?” she asks, smiling.

  
Cheryl beams. “Yes.”

  
*

  
It was kind of weird, watching some of the same people she saw around town milling in, taking name badges, and then seeing some others who had moved on to bigger places back too.

  
Veronica wasn’t here yet, though.

  
“So, Josie’s apparently coming with Veronica, and Archie and Jughead.” Cheryl says, smiling as she hands a namebadge to someone. “And, yes my money’s on them being together. My advice is brilliant, and everyone should listen to me.”

  
Kevin grins, having agreed to sit with them until his husband arrives. “Actually, true. Some of the time. And also, that’s an easy bet. No deal.”

  
Betty looks at them, and is about to comment when she sees all four of them enter.

  
Veronica leads them over, amidst the goggling eyes of former classmates. Betty knows she’s long used to having everyone stare at her. They can’t help it, they outshine everyone around them – something about having been industry based on people’s adoration of you for so long, and their obviously-expensive clothes that are probably not even anywhere near their best or most expensive clothes they own, it’s like it casts a corona of light around them, even though she knows it’s a trick of her imaginative mind.

  
“Hey, I’m here for the ten year reunion?” Veronica says nonchalantly.

  
Betty laughs. “Uh, Lodge, was it?”

  
Behind Veronica, she notices – Josie, beaming at Cheryl; Archie, looking handsome and well-dressed; and Jughead, looking slightly nervous, but also lighter and happier than she’s seen him look in a long time, unmistakably holding hands with him. She catches his eye for the briefest moment, and he nods infinitesimally at her, a flick of his chin.

  
She smiles at Veronica, and beyond her to him. 

  
*

  
Josie dances with Cheryl, and doesn’t care that a lot of her old classmates are either staring at her, or pretending they’re not staring and trying to look at them when they think neither of them are looking.

  
“God, could they look any harder? Come on, I know this is a small town but this shouldn’t be _that_ shocking.” Josie whispers.

  
“I mean, it might be the gay thing, or it could be that they didn’t expect to see a famous person is at their high school reunion. Even one they went to school with. No way to know.” Cheryl points out.

  
Josie looks at her. “You know, I’m used to people being in my business, everyone looking at me. I’ve stopped caring…I never asked, are you ok with it?”

  
Cheryl gives her a look similar to one she gives Archie if he says something particularly oblivious. “Have you forgotten who you’re with? People have been looking at me in some way my whole life.” She looks at Josie, deeply affectionate. “At least we control the narrative from here on out.”

  
Josie beams back. “I’m glad I’m here.”

  
Cheryl’s phone beeps. “Ooh, I think it’s time, babe.”

  
Josie nods. “I’ll go find them after this song.”

  
*

  
Archie leaves Jughead talking to Betty to get a drink, and hears a familiar voice.

  
“Andrews! You don’t call, you don’t write. What’s a guy to think?” Reggie says, on his right.

  
He turns around, cringing slightly. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, I’ve had a really intense week – “

  
Then he realises Reggie is smirking widely. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Arch.”

  
He shakes his head, grinning. “ _Fuck_ you, Reggie.”

  
Reggie laughs. “It was fun, though. I see you’ve worked things out with Jug, huh?”

  
He can’t help but smile. “Ah, yeah. I didn’t – see it coming together. But it did.”

  
Reggie nods. “Good for you, then.” He says, a little more honestly than usual. He sees someone and snaps back to smirking.

  
“Great catching up, but I gotta go see how Ava Lau is doing. Wish me luck!”  

  
*

  
It was both weirder than and not as weird as Jughead would have ever imagined, dancing with Archie at one of these things. On one hand, there were all the stares. He was certain anyone with a vague knowledge of their friendship was fairly confused by this, not having been privy to anything before tonight. But he was used to people staring at him, used to sticking out like a sore thumb. It turned out it didn’t bother him as much when he had someone else to rely on, that everyone was looking at too. He too was used to it, by now.

  
Betty comes up during the end of a song. “Hey, Arch, do you think I could steal him from you for the next song?”

  
Archie looks at her cheerfully. “Of course. I was just thinking I’m a bit thirsty, anyway.” He turns to Jughead. “Do you want like, a coke or anything?”

  
“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” He says. Archie gives him such a look of such fondness, he has to look away for a second. He’s attempting to work on seeming like he doesn’t like the attention – more he still can’t quite believe it, how much this person loves him. “I’ll be back, soon,” he says, smiling and disappearing off into the crowd. 

  
Betty slips into his place, swaying slowly with him.

  
“So, I guess we’ve got some things to talk about, huh?” she says, smiling, sheepish.

  
He chuckles feebly. “Yeah, you could say that.” 

  
“So, you listened to Kevin, I see,” she says, beaming. “I’m so…I can’t believe you managed to…”

  
“What?” he says, both kind of amused and indignant.

  
She gives him a look. “As someone who literally grew up with you both, _honestly_ …I’m surprised we got here at all. But I’m, overjoyed that we are. You were both my best friends, of course I am! And you haven’t stopped smiling since I saw you walk in.”

  
She looks at him with a mixture of pride and deep fondness.

  
He looks away then catches her eye, still smiling. “I know, it’s going to ruin my brand.”

  
She laughs.

  
“So. You’re back with Veronica? Not to be rude but – I thought she was engaged?” he asks.

  
She looks away to where her date is dancing with Kevin, then back. “Not anymore.”

  
Jughead nods. “Wow. That’s a big gesture.”

  
Betty smiles, a little nervously. “Yep.”

  
They don’t say anything for moment.

  
“Everything is about to change, Juggie. I’m excited, but also…” she says quietly enough that he almost doesn’t hear her over the decade-old pop song playing.

  
“Scared? Yeah. I get you.” he replies.

  
“But as my Dad is fond of saying to me now, ‘you can’t change what happened in the past, you can’t control what happens to you in the future, but you can control how you react to it.’.”

  
Betty raises an eyebrow.

  
“Sober wisdom, I think,” he says dryly. He looks at her. “He’s right though. You’re gonna go for this interview, you’re gonna be amazing, you’re gonna get it, and then you’re gonna finally move out of here. And you’ll have her. Make your fear productive, Betts.”

  
Her eyes look misty and she buries her face in his suit jacket for a moment. “Say you’ll come visit me all the time when I move to NYC? I’ll miss you too much otherwise…I don’t want to have to choose between these two lives, my best friend or my girlfriend, I love them both,” she asks, looking pensive.

  
He smiles. “Well first step. Move there. Worry about that first,” he says, and she smiles, “But as for having to choose…”

  
He looks over, seeing Archie coming over through the crowd. To look at him he looks perfectly genial, comfortably happy but his smile definitely brightens on catching sight of Jughead again, making his stomach do that weird flippy thing again it’s been doing since Friday afternoon.

  
“I don’t know that you have to,” he says enigmatically. “But Archie said he was thinking of getting out of L.A. for a while, and it’s not like he’s gonna move back here, so I might have to come along…”

  
She squeals, looking ecstatic, and throws her arms around him.

  
“Wow, bad time?” Archie jokes, coming up to them.

  
She releases him to hug Archie, who looks surprised but grins even wider.

  
*

  
The music stops as Cheryl takes the stage, which is dramatically lit on her. 

  
Archie wouldn’t expect anything less from her.

  
“Hello, fellow classmates of 2019, who’s having a good night?” she says confidently to the crowd.

  
Everyone cheers. She beams at the crowd.

 

“Well that’s good because I have a special treat for you all... I’ve been a fan since their early days, and to know them is to love them. For one night only, our year’s premier musical talent, please show your appreciation for _Josie and the Pussycats_!” Cheryl says, totally in her element.

  
The stage lights go up to reveal instruments on stage, and Josie, Mel and Val in their familiar set up.

  
Cheryl nods at Josie, beaming, and walks to the side of the stage.

  
Josie puts her lips close to the mic. “Hi everyone. I’m sure some of you remember me, I’m Josie McCoy,” she’s probably half-joking. The audience laughs anyway. “This band was very important to me when I went here,” she looks back at Val and Mel, who smile back at her. “So I’m glad we could bring you some of it back, for this reunion.” She smiles.

  
“So, I wanna hear your best applause for Valerie Brown, the baddest bitch on bass guitar and keyboards, and I would know!” she says confidentally, warming up.

  
Everyone applauds and some cheer.

  
“And give a warm welcome to Melody Valentine, all the way from Houston, Texas – a total genius, in real life and on the drums!” she continues, grinning.

  
More applause and cheering.

  
“And a round to Cheryl Blossom, none of this would have been possible without her,” she beams,  
“The only event planner you want, and the girl you can’t have…because she’s mine. Sorry,” she looks over at Cheryl, who looks – although Archie can’t see her properly – thrilled.

  
He cheers loudly at this, and the audience applauds and some people cheer.

  
Jughead looks at him, smirking. “Did you know about this?”

  
He shakes his head. “No idea.”

  
“We’re a little rusty, so we’re only gonna play two songs. This first one was co-written by someone you might know,” Josie says to a few laughs from the audience. “My boy, Archie Andrews.”

  
Scattered whoops at this, probably from his ex-football friends.

  
She catches his eyes, beaming and nods at him. He nods back, grinning.

  
“One, two, three, four…”

  
***

  
Josie sees Archie run up to her, thrilled, and picks her up with the force of his hug. She shrieks, laughing.

  
“You guys were so good! Fuck, that was great. I’m jealous! Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, putting her down, full of excitement.

  
“Cheryl wanted it to be a surprise. She heard we were practicing and said we had a spot if we wanted to. Also, if it was a surprise, if we freaked out no one would know we ever were planning to do it anyway,” Josie says, exhilarated.

  
She feels like she could fight an army, she’s so amped. She’s gotten used to performance adrenaline, but somehow playing two songs with her old friends was scarier, and more exciting than anything she’s done recently, at least musically.

  
He laughs. He looks younger when he does, and he hasn’t laughed like that in a while.

  
She looks at him, trying and failing to contain how fond she is. Of the boy that kept trying to be her friend, even when she didn’t want it, but needed it; of the man he’s become, of how much he’s grown, everything they’ve been through together.

  
“Thanks for making me come here, Archibald.” She says, beaming.

  
He laughs. “Thanks for coming with me, Josephine. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about jughead: i know a lot of people follow comics canon with his asexuality, and I'm not trying to set this up in opposition but in the end I felt I didn't have a good enough grasp of the idea to make a point of it in the fic. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone too much by leaving that out - I haven't tried to make him hypersexual and comfortable either, though!
> 
> i feel i should point out there's another little segment left of this story, but it's more like a coda to the main story. I just want to say, even though this is technically only the second-last chapter, thankyou for reading this - especially those awesome people leaving kudos and comments, you make my day and my whole week every time, it's really nice to know that people are enjoying this thing, without you all i might not have had the energy to finish this strangely massive thing!
> 
> and a huge huge thanks to @manycoloureddays for being the most attentive and committed and connected and generally brilliant beta reader (and friend) you could ask for, and @napolecn-sclc at tumblr for cheering me on everytime and demanding i write more immediately :D
> 
> Hope to see you all after the last chapter, which i'll try and put up soon after this (i'm currently visiting family and friends so I've actually got a social life for the next week, but I'll see what I can do!)


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Talking like we used to do_  
It was always me and you  
Shaping up and shipping out  
Check me in and check me out

**‘Mess Is Mine’, Vance Joy**

  1. **October 2031**



Betty sees Kevin get out of the cab through the thick glass doors of the lobby, and rushes out to let him in.  


She can’t help but let out a squeal of excitement at seeing him. It’s been maybe two or three months since Kevin’s been able to get up to New York, and she’s not supposed to be taking long drives – like the one back to their hometown – right now. Veronica’s been very strict about this.

  
It’s pouring down outside, but as soon as he gets his bags into the covered awning out the front of her apartment building, she throws her arms around him.  He responds warmly.

  
“Betty, you look amazing! You have no right to look this good, honestly.” Kevin exclaims, smiling widely.

  
She grimaces. “You’re very sweet to lie, but I feel like a whale. And this is only five months in!”

  
He shakes his head vehemently. “You’re too close to the situation. Seriously, it’s doing wonders for your hair and skin. Which were already gorgeous, so. You wear it very well.”

  
She blushes. “Thank you, Kevin. I can’t believe you’re here! I’m so excited! Although it’s a shame Jude couldn’t be here to hang out with us.”

  
Kevin sighs. “I know, but unlike me he can’t just visit his other office in New York. Apparently that would be “unfair to his students”,” he grins at this.

  
“Damn teachers and their consistent work ethic.” Betty jokes.

  
***  
  
  
“So what do you have planned for this week? Is it at least fifty percent going to shows on Broadway? Because I am very much down for that.” Kevin says, sitting on their surprisingly-comfortable-for-how-expensive-it-was couch.

  
She laughs. “I mean, as much as I want to be doing things with you all day everyday, I’m still part time at work so I have to go in two days this week. But Veronica has some _plans_ and I think you’re going to love them. Between all of us here you’ll be super booked up.”

  
He smiles widely, pleased. “Well, if the upside of having your friends leave town for bigger cities is that you get to visit them and do a lot of fun things, then I’m very happy about it.”

  
She grins. “Oh but I’m definitely the one taking you to the _Chicago_ revival! Veronica’s very excited about it.”

  
He looks thrilled. “I have thought of almost nothing else! I may pass out when I see her do _Cell Block Tango_ , oh my God, but I’m very excited to go.”

  
Betty grins. “Yeah she’s...I can’t do it justice, you’ll have to see it yourself.”

  
He shakes his head. “So you’re still working? What are you guys gonna do closer to the date? Veronica’s not signed up to go film in some far-off exotic locale is she?”

  
Betty takes a sip of her tea, and pats her stomach.

  
“No, no she’s flat out with the show right now. Yeah, I’ve been wanting to work more than I am even right now, but this one is tiring me out more than I thought,”

  
She pauses, smiling.

  
“Not that I mind, of course,” Kevin nods understandingly. “She was happy to be the pregnant one, but I knew – my job I can do from home if I need to, but she would have had to give up such an opportunity...And she’s determined to leave the show when the baby’s born, which makes it easier for me to get back to work when I’m ready. Anyway, I don’t mind it. It’s kind of cool when it’s not actively terrifying,” she says, with a chuckle.

  
Kevin laughs. “Yeah, it’s a...lot. Jude and I are starting to have the big ‘do you want to adopt kids, not as a possibility down the track, but around now’ conversation, and I don’t really know?”

  
Betty nods empathetically. “It’s definitely a weird one. Especially because our parents had kids earlier than we did? And I kind of always thought I would have some, but I think I...pictured it a lot differently.”

  
Kevin smirks. “House in one of the nice areas back home, working at the _Chronicle,_ two or three probably ginger moppets running around?”

  
She shoves him lightly, grinning. “It’s been _fifteen years_ , Kevin, _oh my God_. Will you ever let me live that crush down?”

  
He laughs. 

  
She looks at him, and smiles warmly. “I’m not trying to make any decisions for you – But if you do decide you want them, you’re going to be a great Dad. In fact, you’d both be amazing! That potential child would be lucky to have you.”

  
He blushes. “Thanks, Betty.”

  
“So, we’ll swing by your offices later, and meet Cheryl for lunch. I would usually take the subway, just because no one recognises me if V’s not with me, but she’s forbidden me to do it and so we’ll have to take the car service.” Betty says. Veronica isn’t forceful about what Betty should and shouldn’t be doing, but she gets so worried that Betty ends up taking it easy just to put her mind to rest. She doesn’t mind. It’s nice to be looked after.

  
“Oh, well if we _must._ ” Kevin jokes. “Feels weird to say but I’m still not used to her not being in the office all the time. I can’t believe I miss her.”

  
“Well, she is one of your closest friends, so there is that,” Betty teases.

  
Kevin smirks. “Yeah, there is that.”

  
“Anyway, you’ll get a lot of time to see her. Oh yeah, and on Saturday night we’re having a dinner party, she’s coming to that.”

  
He raises an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? Are you going to spring any A-Listers on me over the bread rolls?”

  
She shakes her head. “No, this is high school friends only. I haven’t seen Archie in weeks since he and Josie have been in the studio so much, and then V cooked up a whole get together so we could all catch up.”

  
He looks pleased. “Awesome! I haven’t seen them in ages,” he says happily. “Do I need to, I don’t know, bring a bottle of wine?”

  
She considers the question, oddly surprised. “I mean, you’re welcome to but – “ she thinks about it, “I’m obviously not drinking, Veronica’s decided she’s not drinking while she’s around me, Josie and Cheryl are doing some health-kick thing that I think involves not drinking, and Jug and Archie don’t drink so...”

  
Kevin raises his eyebrows. “God, these celebrities and their hedonistic tendencies! No, I got you, that’s a no on the wine then.”

  
Betty laughs with him.

 

2\. **Manhattan** , **NYC  
**

Josie awakes slowly, from the light coming in the big window.  


She blinks a few times, trying to remember her dream and scrabbles around lazily on the bedside table for her phone.  


_9:03am,_ the screen reads. _August 1_ st 2032.  


She blinks at it a few more times and decides to get up.  


In the kitchen Cheryl is cooking something that smells suspiciously like bacon.  


“It must be my birthday, if you’re cooking me breakfast,” Josie says, slowly, beaming.  


Cheryl turns to her, some of her red hair falling over her shoulder, and pouts. “Oh no, I was going to let you sleep in a little more and bring them to you on a tray!”  


“It’s alright, I’d rather eat with you.” Cheryl beams at this.  


“Why did you let me sleep in though? I could have helped...” she half-heartedly protests.  


Josie doesn’t like sleeping in, because when you have a lot to do and many ideas to try and explore sleeping in feels like a waste of that time. She must have needed it though, because she feels better than if she usually sleeps past 8:30am.  


Cheryl gives her a dismissive look. “It’s your birthday, Josie. You have to get some rest sometime. Plus, you looked too cute to wake up.”  


Josie grins and pulls her away from the hot pan for a kiss.  


Cheryl beams, and then attempts to frown. “Hey! Stop it, or your breakfast is going to burn!”  


Josie giggles. “Ok, fine, stop me.”  


***  
   
The bacon was only slightly burnt, anyway. And Josie preferred it crispy.  


“So you’ll be overseas for five months? That is just unfair.” Cheryl complains, pouting.  


“Before it we’ll at least be touring here for two months?” Josie tries.  


Cheryl gives her a wounded look. “Yes but you won’t be here. You’ll be in places like Idaho and Missouri and Florida. Florida, Josie!”  


Josie laughs. “So come with us!”  


Cheryl makes a disparaging noise. “I can’t just go on tour with you. I have a business to run!”  


Josie nods, smiling. “Yeah, I know. I’m gonna miss you too much though! Can you fly out just for a night or two? Or especially if we’re somewhere you’d like overseas, like Rome?”  


“I would look cute on a Vespa.” Cheryl muses primly.  


“I know, it’s a pain, but we’re really excited about this new album, and I’m excited to get to play it for our audiences. It’s very meaningful to us,” she says feelingly, and Cheryl smiles, understanding.  
  
  
“Maybe... I will join you in Rome. Or Paris. I love Paris.” she smiles dreamily.  


Josie phone buzzes, and she opens a text from Veronica – to find a short video message wishing her a happy birthday from the tired, but cheery looking family of her, Betty and their wiggly new son Max.

  
She giggles at the unexpectedly delighting video, and shows Cheryl.

  
“Ok, so you know I find babies terrifying, with their bug eyes and everything –“ Cheryl says, looking at it.

  
“Agreed.”

  
“I’m not gonna lie though, the Cooper girls make cute ones. As far as babies go.” Cheryl concedes, smiling.

  
“Also true.” Josie smiles. “Just think, you’ll can go visit the twins when I’m away.”

  
Cheryl smiles wider. “True. I may go and work with Kevin for a week or so.”

  
They haven’t really discussed it, but they don’t feel the need to have children as much. They’re busy enough as it is – and they enjoy being able to jet off somewhere without anything tying them down.

  
Her phone buzzes again.

  
Hey honey, happy birthday! Are you free to talk around noon? Love, Mom

  
She smiles at the text as she writes back a quick reply.

  
Her phone rings.

  
“Wow, thirty-one! Do you feel old?” Archie teases, smirking through the screen.

  
She rolls her eyes at him, exaggeratedly. “You’ll have to tell me how it feels, old man.”

  
He looks mock-offended. “I’m less than a month older than you!”

  
She laughs. “So are you guys still coming to this concert tonight?”

  
“I’m attempting to coax Jug out – ” she hears a distant, ‘hey!’ in the background and a laugh. “Well then, I guess we’ll be there. Happy birthday!”

 

**December 2032**

  
Archie turns the motorcycle down Rue Lamarck, turns into the side-street and parks in front of the apartment building.

  
He nods at the doorman, smiling.

  
"Michel, vous allez bien? Comment va votre chienne?”

   
His French isn’t brilliant but he picked up a fair bit when he’d last lived here.

   
The old man smiles widely. "Parfaitement, Archibald! Elle va très bien! Il fait froid dehors?”

   
He nods, thinking of the right thing to say. “Putain de froid, eh!”

  
The old man cackles, and nods him on.

  
He unlocks the door to the apartment which is, thankfully, heated.

  
He steps into the next room and a tiny ball of black fluff excitedly runs headlong into his legs.

  
Putting down the carrier bag of milk, bread and cheese he scoops her up, staring at her with deep affection. She stares back at him panting excitedly.

  
“Did you miss me, Daisy? Did you?” He can’t help talking in a silly voice to the puppy. She’s just so small and fluffy and it’s impossible to be reasonable when talking to her. Which is why she’s taken up residence at the end of the bed most nights.

  
He bends to pick up the carrier bag with Daisy in his other arm.

  
“Hey, have you seen my copy of _Kafka On The Shore_?” Jughead asks, coming out of the kitchen. “Oh, and tell me you’ve brought coffee, I’m dying. That’s not a joke.”

  
Archie smiles, rumbles around in the bag with one hand and throws it to Jughead, who surprisingly catches it. “It’s fucking cold out. I’d only do it for the people I really care about.”

  
Jughead looks at it, overjoyed. “Wow, I think I love you.”

  
“Well that’s good, otherwise I’ve moved to another continent with a roommate,” he teases, as they move into the kitchen to put the groceries away.

  
Daisy has burrowed up into the opening of his jacket and is attempting to sleep inside it.

  
“This is just temporary, ok? You can’t stay in my jacket.” He says to the tiny lump on his chest. She used to be even smaller, but he’d gotten her as a birthday present from Jughead five months earlier and she – even though a small breed – was growing every day.

  
Jughead snorts. “Oh yeah. You tell her who’s boss.”

  
He grins. “How can I say no? And as for your book, I haven’t seen it, but maybe it’s in the second box of books, or the third? Have you unpacked them yet?”

  
Jughead gives him a look. “Yeah, surprisingly I thought of that. I meant if you’d seen in it the books I’d already unpacked?”

  
“No, I haven’t.” He smiles reassuringly at Jughead, having put the last of the perishables away, and puts his arms around his waist loosely. “Look, I’ve moved a lot – the living out of boxes part is always annoying, and I know we’ve been here a few months already, and we should have more done. But we’ll get there. We’ve got time.”

  
Jughead looks at him with a sort of annoyed but deep fondness, an expression similar but not exactly the same as one he’s looked at him with since they were children. “Yeah. We’ve got time.”

  
He leans in for a kiss, which is only broken by a yelp from Archie’s jacket.

  
Jughead breaks apart from him, laughing, but doesn’t break out of his arms.

  
“Sorry, Daisy!” He says, laughing and tickling her head.

  
“So, what do you want to do for your birthday?” Archie asks, still chuckling.

  
Jughead looks sceptical. “You’re not planning a surprise are you?”

  
“I promise I’m not planning a suprise party or social interaction. But I have some ideas – that I might surprise you with – and I know you’ll like them.” Archie beams.

  
Jughead raises an eyebrow, but can’t help smiling. “Ok, but I swear to God, if it’s one of those 24-hr raves like you were talking about,”

  
Archie’s phone rings. “You never know,” he teases. “I’m just gonna get this, it’s my Mom.”

  
***  
  
  
Archie is scratching Daisy’s little stomach, on the couch, while Jughead reads next to him.

  
“What time did they say they were getting here?” Jughead asks.

  
“Their plane supposedly got in two hours ago but maybe they’re held up in customs?” Archie replies.

  
His phone rings.

  
“It’s fucking cold out here, Archibald, let us up already!” Josie says, sounding like she’s shivering, although she can’t fully disguise the warmth in her tone.

  
“Otherwise, Cheryl may die of hypothermia. She’s wearing very thin tights.” He hears a brief indignant noise on the other end.

  
“Ok, I’ll see you in two minutes, Josephine.”

 

**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only really speak very little french, so for any french readers (i know there's at least one of you) i'm sorry if I mangled your language, i had to use google translate for some of it, haha.  
> edit: Major props to FeelingsHider for fixing my bad French, i really appreciate it - i can only do so much when I barely speak the language but I like things to seem as real as possible, so thanks :)
> 
> wow this is weird, i can't believe i'm finally finished this thing. i've never finished a creative work this long, so thanks to you all for keeping me going :D
> 
> and a final shoutout to @manycoloureddays, who was there giving me feedback every chapter and without whom I wouldn't have even been confident enough to turn a random idea i had while watching episode six into this very long and involved fic, and i'm so grateful it received such a warm response :) thanks

**Author's Note:**

> club song is high - peking duk
> 
> hmu @ pantsaretherealheroes.tumblr.com if you wanna say hi or need to talk about these characters that i care so much about even in a such a mainly ridiculous show :)


End file.
